Mother of pearl

L*.

UBRARt

OF CALIFORNIA

THE WORKS OF ANATOLE FRANCE
IN AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION
EDITED BY FREDERIC CHAPMAN

MOTHER OF PEARL

MOTHER OF PEARL
BY ANATOLE FRANCE

A TRANSLATION BY
FREDERIC CHAPMAN

LONDON : JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK : JOHN LANE COMPANY : MCMXVII

Second Edition

WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLVMOBTU, ENGLAND

CONTENTS

PACK

THE PROCURATOR OF JUDAEA ... 3
AMYCUS AND CELESTINE .... 29
THE LEGEND OF SAINTS OLIVERIA AND

LlBERETTA ...... 39

ST. EUPHROSINE ..... 55

SCHOLASTICA ...... 75

OUR LADY'S JUGGLER .... 83

THE MASS OF SHADOWS . . • 97

LESLIE WOOD . . . . . .109

GESTAS . . . . . . .129

THE MANUSCRIPT OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR . 143
MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER . . .161

DAWN ....... 225

MADAME DE LUZY ..... 243

THE BOON OF DEATH BESTOWED . . 257

A TALE OF THE MONTH OF FLOR!AL IN THE

YEAR II 265

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER . . . 277

THE PROCURATOR OF JUDAEA

MOTHER OF PEARL

THE PROCURATOR OF JUDAEA

.jELIUS LAMIA, born in Italy
of illustrious parents, had not yet
discarded the toga pr<gtcxta when he
set out for the schools of Athens to
study philosophy. Subsequently he
took up his residence at Rome, and in his house
on the Esquiline, amid a circle of youthful wastrels,
abandoned himself to licentious courses. But being
accused of engaging in criminal relations with
Lepida, the wife of Sulpicius Quirinus, a man of
consular rank, and being found guilty, he was
exiled by Tiberius Caesar. At that time he was
just entering his twenty-fourth year. During the
eighteen years that his exile lasted he traversed
Syria, Palestine, Cappadocia, and Armenia, and
made prolonged visits to Antioch, Caesarea, and
Jerusalem. When, after the death of Tiberius,
Caius was raised to the purple, Lamia obtained
permission to return to Rome. He even regained

3

4 MOTHER OF PEARL

a portion of his possessions. Adversity had taught
him wisdom.

He avoided all intercourse with the wives and
daughters of Roman citizens, made no efforts
towards obtaining office, held aloof from public
honours, and lived a secluded life in his house on
the Esquiline. Occupying himself with the task
of recording all the remarkable things he had seen
during his distant travels, he turned, as he said,
the vicissitudes of his years of expiation into a
diversion for his hours of rest. In the midst of
these calm employments, alternating with assiduous
study of the works of Epicurus, he recognized
with a mixture of surprise and vexation that age was
stealing upon him. In his sixty-second year, being
afflicted with an illness which proved in no slight
degree troublesome, he decided to have recourse
to the waters at Baiae. The coast at that point,
once frequented by the halcyon, was at this date
the resort of the wealthy Roman, greedy of
pleasure. For a week Lamia lived alone, without
a friend in the brilliant crowd. Then one day,
after dinner, an inclination to which he yielded
urged him to ascend the incline, which, covered
with vines that resembled bacchantes, looked out
upon the waves.

Having reached the summit he seated himself
by the side of a path beneath a terebinth, and let

THE PROCURATOR OF JUDAEA 5

his glances wander over the lovely landscape. To
his left, livid and bare, the Phlegraean plain
stretched out towards the ruins of Cumae. On his
right, Cape Misenum plunged its abrupt spur
beneath the Tyrrhenian sea. Beneath his feet
luxurious Baias, following the graceful outline of
the coast, displayed its gardens, its villas thronged
with statues, its porticos, its marble terraces along the
shores of the blue ocean where the dolphins sported.
Before him, on the other side of the bay, on the
Campanian coast, gilded by the already sinking
sun, gleamed the temples which far away rose
above the laurels of Posilippo, whilst on the
extreme horizon Vesuvius looked forth smiling.

Lamia drew from a fold of his toga a scroll con-
taining the Treatise upon Nature, extended himself
upon the ground, and began to read. But the
warning cries of a slave necessitated his rising to
allow of the passage of a litter which was being
carried along the narrow pathway through the vine-
yards. The litter being uncurtained, permitted
Lamia to see stretched upon the cushions as it
was borne nearer to him the figure of an elderly
man of immense bulk, who, supporting his head on
his hand, gazed out with a gloomy and disdainful
expression. His nose, which was aquiline, and his
chin, which was prominent, seemed desirous of
meeting across his lips, and his jaws were powerful.

6 MOTHER OF PEARL

From the first moment Lamia was convinced
that the face was familiar to him. He hesitated a
moment before the name came to him. Then
suddenly hastening towards the litter with a display
of surprise and delight —

" Pontius Pilate ! " he cried. " The gods be praised
who have permitted me to see you once again ! "

The old man gave a signal to the slaves to stop,
and cast a keen glance upon the stranger who had
addressed him.

" Pontius, my dear host," resumed the latter,
" have twenty years so far whitened my hair and
hollowed my cheeks that you no longer recognize
your friend ^Elius Lamia ? "

At this name Pontius Pilate dismounted from
the litter as actively as the weight of his years and
the heaviness of his gait permitted him, and em-
braced ./Elius Lamia again and again.

" Gods ! what a treat it is to me to see you once
more ! But, alas, you call up memories of those
long- vanished days when I was Procurator of
Judaea in the province of Syria. Why, it must be
thirty years ago that I first met you. It was at
Caesarea, whither you came to drag out your weary
term of exile. I was fortunate enough to alleviate
it a little, and out of friendship, Lamia, you
followed me to that depressing place Jerusalem,
where the Jews filled me with bitterness and dis-

THE PROCURATOR OF JUD^A 7

gust. You remained for more than ten years my
guest and my companion, and in converse about
Rome and things Roman we both of us managed
to find consolation — you for your misfortunes, and
I for my burdens of State."

Lamia embraced him afresh.

" You forget two things, Pontius ; you are over-
looking the facts that you used your influence on
my behalf with Herod Antipas, and that your
purse was freely open to me."

" Let us not talk of that," replied Pontius,
" since after your return to Rome you sent me by
one of your freedmen a sum of money which
repaid me with usury."

" Pontius, I could never consider myself out
of your debt by the mere payment of money. But
tell me, have the gods fulfilled your desires ? 4 Are
you in the enjoyment of all the happiness you
deserve ? Tell me about your family, your for-
tunes, your health."

"I have withdrawn to Sicily, where I possess
estates, and where I cultivate wheat for the market.
My eldest daughter, my best-beloved Pontia, who
has been left a widow, lives with me, and directs
my household. The gods be praised, I have pre-
served my mental vigour ; my memory is not in
the least degree enfeebled. But old age always
brings in its train a long procession of griefs and

8 MOTHER OR PEARL

infirmities. I am cruelly tormented with gout.
And at this very moment you find me on my way
to the Phlegrasan plain in search of a remedy for
my sufferings. From that burning soil, whence at
night flames burst forth, proceed aqrid exhalations
of sulphur, which, so they say, ease the pains and
restore suppleness to the stiffened joints. At least,
the physicians assure me that it is so."

" May you find it so in your case, Pontius !
But, despite the gout and its burning torments,
you scarcely look as old as myself, although in
reality you must be my senior by ten years. Un-
mistakably you have retained a greater degree of
vigour than I ever possessed, and I am overjoyed
to find you looking so hale. Why, dear friend,
did you retire from the public service before the
customary age ? Why, on resigning your governor-
ship in Judaea, did you withdraw to a voluntary
exile on your Sicilian estates ? Give me an 'account
of your doings from the moment that I ceased to
be a witness of them. You were preparing to
suppress a Samaritan rising when I set out for
Cappadocia, where I hoped to draw some profit
from the breeding of horses and mules. I have
not seen you since then. How did that expedition
succeed ? Pray tell me. Everything interests me
that concerns you in any way."

Pontius Pilate sadly shook his head.

THE PROCURATOR OF JUD^A 9

" My natural disposition," he said, " as well as
a sense of duty, impelled me to fulfil my
public responsibilities, not merely with diligence,
but even with ardour. But I was pursued
by unrelenting hatred. Intrigues and calumnies
cut short my career in its prime, and the fruit
it should have looked to bear has withered away.
You ask me about the Samaritan insurrection.
Let us sit down on this hillock. I shall be able
to give you an answer in few words. Those occur-
rences are as vividly present to me as if they had
happened yesterday.

" A man of the people, of persuasive speech
— there are many such to be met with in Syria —
induced the Samaritans to gather together in arms
on Mount Gerizim (which in that country is looked
upon as a holy place) under the promise that he
would disclose to their sight the sacred vessels
which in the ancient days of Evander and our
father, jEneas, had been hidden away by an
eponymous hero, or rather a tribal deity, named
Moses. Upon this assurance the Samaritans rose
in rebellion ; but having been warned in time to
forestall them, I dispatched detachments of infantry
to occupy the mountain, and stationed cavalry to
keep the approaches to it under observation.

"These measures of prudence were urgent.
The rebels were already laying siege to the town

10

of Tyrathaba, situated at the foot of Mount
Gerizim. I easily dispersed them, and stifled the as
yet scarcely organized revolt. Then, in order to
give a forcible example with as few victims as
possible, I handed over to execution the leaders of
the rebellion. But you are aware, Lamia, in what
strait dependence I was kept by the proconsul
Vitellius, who governed Syria not in, but against
the interests of Rome, and looked upon the
provinces of the empire as territories which could
be farmed out to tetrarchs. The head-men
among the Samaritans, in their resentment against
me, came and fell at his feet lamenting. To
listen to them, nothing had been further from
their thoughts than to disobey Csesar. It was I
who had provoked the rising, and it was purely in
order to withstand my violence that they had
gathered together round Tyrathaba. Vitellius
listened to their complaints, and handing over the
affairs of Judaea to his friend Marcellus, com-
manded me to go and justify my proceedings
before the Emperor himself. With a heart over-
flowing with grief and resentment I took ship.
Just as I approached the shores of Italy, Tiberius,
worn out with age and the cares of empire, died
suddenly on the selfsame Cape Misenum, whose
peak we see from this very spot magnified in the
mists of evening. I demanded justice of Caius, his

THE PROCURATOR OF JUDAEA n

successor, whose perception was naturally acute,
and who was acquainted with Syrian affairs. But
marvel with me, Lamia, at the maliciousness of
fortune, resolved on my discomfiture. Cams
then had in his suite at Rome the Jew Agrippa,
his companion, the friend of his childhood, whom
he cherished as his own eyes. Now Agrippa
favoured Vitellius, inasmuch as Vitellius was the
enemy of Antipas, whom Agrippa pursued with
his hatred. The Emperor adopted the prejudices
of his beloved Asiatic, and refused even to listen
to me. There was nothing for me to do but
bow beneath the stroke of unmerited misfortune.
With tears for my meat and gall for my portion,
I withdrew to my estates in Sicily, where I should
have died of grief if my sweet Pontia had not
come to console her father. I have cultivated
wheat, and succeeded in producing the fullest ears
in the whole province. But now my life is
ended ; the future will judge between Vitellius and
me."

" Pontius," replied Lamia, " I am persuaded
that you acted towards the Samaritans according to
the rectitude of your character, and solely in the
interests of Rome. But were you not perchance
on that occasion a trifle too much influenced by
that impetuous courage which has always swayed
you ? You will remember that in Judaea it often

12 MOTHER OF PEARL

happened that I who, younger than you, should
naturally have been more impetuous than you, was
obliged to urge you to clemency and suavity."

"Suavity towards the Jews ! " cried Pontius Pilate.
" Although you have lived amongst them, it seems
clear that you ill understand those enemies of the
human race. Haughty and at the same time base,
combining an invincible obstinacy with a despicably
mean spirit, they weary alike your love and your
hatred. My character, Lamia, was formed upon
the maxims of the divine Augustus. When I was
appointed Procurator of Judaea, the world was
already penetrated with the majestic ideal of the
pax romana. No longer, as in the days of our
internecine strife, were we witnesses to the sack of
a province for the aggrandisement of a proconsul.
I knew where my duty lay. I was careful that my
actions should be governed by prudence and modera-
tion. The gods are my witnesses that I was re-
solved upon mildness, and upon mildness only.
Yet what did my benevolent intentions avail me ?
You were at my side, Lamia, when, at the outset
of my career as ruler, the first rebellion came to a
head. Is there any need for me to recall the
details to you ? The garrison had been transferred
from Caesarea to take up its winter quarters at
Jerusalem. Upon the ensigns of the legionaries ap-
peared the presentment of Caesar. The inhabitants

THE PROCURATOR OF JUD^A 13

of Jerusalem, who did not recognize the indwelling
divinity of the Emperor, were scandalized at this,
as though, when obedience is compulsory, it were
not less abject to obey a god than a man. The
priests of their nation appeared before my tribunal
imploring me with supercilious humility to have
the ensigns removed from within the holy city. Out
of reverence for the divine nature of Caesar and the
majesty of the empire, 1 refused to comply. Then
the rabble made common cause with the priests,
and all around the pretonum portentous cries of
supplication arose. 1 ordered the soldiers to stack
their spears in front of the tower of Antonia, and
to proceed, armed only with sticks like lictors, to
disperse the insolent crowd. But, heedless of blows,
the Jews continued their entreaties, and the more
obstinate amongst them threw themselves on the
ground and, exposing their throats to the rods,
deliberately courted death. You were a witness of
my humiliation on that occasion, Lamia. By the
order of Vitellius I was forced to send the insignia
back to Caesarea. That disgrace I had certainly
not merited. Before the immortal gods I swear
that never once during my term of office did I
flout justice and the laws. But I am grown old.
My enemies and detractors are dead. I shall
die unavenged. Who will now retrieve my
character ? "

i4 MOTHER OF PEARL

He moaned and lapsed into silence. Lamia
replied —

" That man is prudent who neither hopes nor
fears anything from the uncertain events of the
future. Does it matter in the least what estimate
men may form of us hereafter ? We ourselves are
after all our own witnesses, and our own judges.
You must rely, Pontius Pilate, on the testimony
you yourself bear to your own rectitude. Be
content with your own personal respect and that
of your friends. For the rest, we know that mild-
ness by itself will not suffice for the work of
government. There is but little room in the actions
of public men for that indulgence of human frailty
which the philosophers recommend."

" We'll say no more at present," said Pontius.
"The sulphureous fumes which rise from the
Phlegraean plain are more powerful when the
ground which exhales them is still warm beneath
the sun's rays. I must hasten on. Adieu ! But
now that I have rediscovered a friend, I should
wish to take advantage of my good fortune. Do
me the favour, ./Elius Lamia, to give me your
company at supper at my house to-morrow. My
house stands on the seashore, at the extreme end
of the town in the direction of Misenum. You
will easily recognize it by the porch which bears
a painting representing Orpheus surrounded by

THE PROCURATOR OF JUD^A 15

tigers and lions, whom he is charming with the
strains from his lyre.

" Till to-morrow, Lamia," he repeated, as he
climbed once more into his litter. " To-morrow
we will talk about Judaea."

The following day at the supper hour Lamia
presented himself at the house of Pontius Pilate.
Two couches only were in readiness for occupants.
Creditably but simply equipped, the table held a
silver service in which were set out beccaficos in
honey, thrushes, oysters from the Lucrine lake, and
lampreys from Sicily. As they proceeded with
their repast, Pontius and Lamia interchanged in-
quiries with one another about their ailments, the
symptoms of which they described at considerable
length, mutually emulous of communicating the
various remedies which had been recommended to
them. Then, congratulating themselves on being
thrown together once more at Baiae, they vied with
one another in praise of the beauty of that enchant-
ing coast and the mildness of the climate they
enjoyed. Lamia was enthusiastic about the charms
of the courtesans who frequented the seashore
laden with golden ornaments and trailing draperies
of barbaric broidery. But the aged Procurator
deplored the ostentation with which by means of

1 6 MOTHER OF PEARL

trumpery jewels and filmy garments foreigners and
even enemies of the empire beguiled the Romans
of their gold. After a time they turned to the
subject of the great engineering feats that had been
accomplished in the country ; the prodigious bridge
constructed by Caius between Puteoli and Baiae,
and the canals which Augustus excavated to convey
the waters of the ocean to Lake Avernus and the
Lucrine lake.

" I also," said Pontius, with a sigh, " I also
wished to set afoot public works of great utility.
When, for my sins, I was appointed Governor of
Judaea, I conceived the idea of furnishing Jeru-
salem with an abundant supply of pure water by
means of an aqueduct. The elevation of the
levels, the proportionate capacity of the various
parts, the gradient for the brazen reservoirs to which
the distribution pipes were to be fixed — I had gone
into every detail, and decided everything for myself
with the assistance of mechanical experts. I had
drawn up regulations for the superintendents so as
to prevent individuals from making unauthorized
depredations. The architects and the workmen
had their instructions. I gave orders for the com-
mencement of operations. But far from viewing
with satisfaction the construction of that conduit,
which was intended to carry to their town upon
its massive arches not only water but health, the

THE PROCURATOR OF JVDJEA 17

inhabitants of Jerusalem gave vent to lamentable
outcries. They gathered tumultuously together,
exclaiming against the sacrilege and impiousness,
and, hurling themselves upon the workmen, scat-
tered the very foundation stones. Can you picture
to yourself, Lamia, a filthier set of barbarians ?
Nevertheless, Vitellius decided in their favour, and
I received orders to put a stop to the work."

" It is a knotty point," said Lamia, " how far
one is justified in devising things for the common-
weal against the will of the populace."

Pontius Pilate continued as though he had not
heard this interruption.

" Refuse an aqueduct ! What madness ! But
whatever is of Roman origin is distasteful to the
Jews. In their eyes we are an unclean race, and
our very presence appears a profanation to them.
You will remember that they would never venture
to enter the pretorium for fear of defiling them-
selves, and that I was consequently obliged to dis-
charge my magisterial functions in an open-air
tribunal on that marble pavement your feet so
often trod.

" They fear us and they despise us. Yet is not
Rome the mother and warden of all those peoples
who nestle smiling upon her venerable bosom ?
With her eagles in the van, peace and liberty have

been carried to the very confines of the universe,
c

1 8 MOTHER OF PEARL

Those whom we have subdued we look on as our
friends, and we leave those conquered races, nay,
we secure to them the permanence of their customs
and their laws. Did Syria, aforetime rent asunder by
its rabble of petty kings, ever even begin to taste of
peace and prosperity until it submitted to the armies
of Pompey ? And when Rome might have reaped
a golden harvest as the price of her goodwill, did
she lay hands on the hoards that swell the treasuries
of barbaric temples ? Did she despoil the shrine of
Cybele at Pessinus, or the Morimene and Cilician
sanctuaries of Jupiter, or the temple of the Jewish
god at Jerusalem ? Antioch, Palmyra, and Apa-
mea, secure despite their wealth, and no longer in
dread of the wandering Arab of the desert, have
erected temples to the genius of Rome and the
divine Caesar. The Jews alone hate and withstand us.
They withhold their tribute till it is wrested from
them, and obstinately rebel against military service."
" The Jews," replied Lamia, " are profoundly
attached to their ancient customs. They suspected
you, unreasonably I admit, of a desire to abolish
their laws and change their usages. Do not resent
it, Pontius, if I say that you did not always act in
such a way as to disperse their unfortunate illusion.
It gratified you, despite your habitual self-restraint,
to play upon their fears, and more than once have
I seen you betray in their presence the contempt

THE PROCURATOR OF JUD^A 19

with which their beliefs and religious ceremonies
inspired you. You irritated them particularly by
giving instructions for the sacerdotal garments and
ornaments of their high priest to be kept in ward by
your legionaries in the Antonine tower. One must
admit that though they have never risen like us to
an appreciation of things divine, the Jews celebrate
rites which their very antiquity renders venerable."

Pontius Pilate shrugged his shoulders.

"They have very little exact knowledge of the
nature of the gods," he said. "They worship
Jupiter, yet they abstain from naming him or erect-
ing a statue of him. They do not even adore him
under the semblance of a rude stone, as certain of
the Asiatic peoples are wont to do. They know
nothing of Apollo, of Neptune, of Mars, nor of
Pluto, nor of any goddess. At the same time, I
am convinced that in days gone by they wor-
shipped Venus. For even to this day their women
bring doves to the altar as victims ; and you know
as well as I that the dealers who trade beneath the
arcades of their temple supply those birds in
couples for sacrifice. I have even been told that
on one occasion some madman proceeded to over-
turn the stalls bearing these offerings, and their
owners with them. The priests raised an outcry
about it, and looked on it as a case of sacrilege. I
am of opinion that their custom of sacrificing turtle-

20 MOTHER OF PEARL

doves was instituted in honour of Venus. Why
are you laughing, Lamia ? "

" I was laughing," said Lamia, " at an amusing
idea which, I hardly know how, just occurred to
me. I was thinking that perchance some day the
Jupiter of the Jews might come to Rome and vent
his fury upon you. Why should he not ? Asia
and Africa have already enriched us with a con-
siderable number of gods. We have seen temples
in honour of Isis and the dog-faced Anubis erected
in Rome. In the public squares, and even on the
race-courses, you may run across the Bona Dea of
the Syrians mounted on an ass. And did you
never hear how, in the reign of Tiberius, a young
patrician passed himself off as the horned Jupiter of
the Egyptians, Jupiter Ammon, and in this dis-
guise procured the favours of an illustrious lady
who was too virtuous to deny anything to a god ?
Beware, Pontius, lest the invisible Jupiter of the
Jews disembark some day on the quay at Ostia ! "

At the idea of a god coming out of Judaea, a
fleeting smile played over the severe countenance
of the Procurator. Then he replied gravely —

" How would the Jews manage to impose their
sacred law on outside peoples when they are in a
perpetual state of tumult amongst themselves as to
the interpretation of that law ? You have seen
them yourself, Lamia, in the public squares, split

THE PROCURATOR OF JUDAEA 21

up into twenty rival parties, with staves in their
hands, abusing each other and clutching one another
by the beard. You have seen them on the steps
of the temple, tearing their filthy garments as a
symbol of lamentation, with some wretched creature
in a frenzy of prophetic exaltation in their midst.
They have never realized that it is possible to dis-
cuss peacefully and with an even mind those
matters concerning the divine which yet are hidden
from the profane and wrapped in uncertainty. For
the nature of the immortal gods remains hidden
from us, and we cannot arrive at a knowledge of it.
Though I am of opinion, none the less, that it is a
prudent thing to believe in the providence of the
gods. But the Jews are devoid of philosophy, and
cannot tolerate any diversity of opinions. On the
contrary, they judge worthy of the extreme penalty
all those who on divine subjects profess opinions
opposed to their law. And as, since the genius
of Rome has towered over them, capital sentences
pronounced by their own tribunals can only be
carried out with the sanction of the proconsul or
the procurator, they harry the Roman magistrate
at any hour to procure his signature to their bale-
ful decrees, they besiege the pretorium with their
cries of * Death ! ' A hundred times, at least, have
I known them, mustered, rich and poor together,
all united under their priests, make a furious on-

22 MOTHER OF PEARL

slaught on my ivory chair, seizing me by the skirts
of my robe, by the thongs of my sandals, and all
to demand of me — nay, to exact from me — the death
sentence on some unfortunate whose guilt I failed
to perceive, and as to whom I could only pronounce
that he was as mad as his accusers. A hundred
times, do I say ! Not a hundred, but every day
and all day. Yet it was my duty to execute their
law as if it were ours, since I was appointed by
Rome not for the destruction, but for the uphold-
ing of their customs, and over them I had the
power of the rod and the axe. At the outset or
my term of office I endeavoured to persuade them
to hear reason ; I attempted to snatch their miser-
able victims from death. But this show of mild-
ness only irritated them the more ; they demanded
their prey, fighting around me like a horde of
vultures with wing and beak. Their priests re-
ported to Caesar that I was violating their law, and
their appeals, supported by Vitellius, drew down
upon me a severe reprimand. How many times
did I long, as the Greeks used to say, to dispatch
accusers and accused in one convoy to the crows !

"Do not imagine, Lamia, that I nourish the
rancour of the discomfited, the wrath of the super-
annuated, against a people which in my person has
prevailed against both Rome and tranquillity. But
I foresee the extremity to which sooner or later

THE PROCURATOR OF JUD^A 23

they will reduce us. Since we cannot govern them,
we shall be driven to destroy them. Never doubt
it. Always in a state of insubordination, brewing
rebellion in their inflammatory minds, they will one
day burst forth upon us with a fury beside which
the wrath of the Numidians and the mutterings
of the Parthians are mere child's play. They are
secretly nourishing preposterous hopes, and madly
premeditating our ruin. How can it be otherwise,
when, on the strength of an oracle, they are living
in expectation of the coming of a prince of their
own blood whose kingdom shall extend over the
whole earth ? There are no half measures with
such a people. They must be exterminated. Jeru-
salem must be laid waste to the very foundation.
Perchance, old as I am, it may be granted me to
behold the day when her walls shall fall and the
flames shall envelop her houses, when her in-
habitants shall pass under the edge of the sword,
when salt shall be strown on the place where once
the temple stood. And in that day I shall at
length be justified."

Lamia exerted himself to lead the conversation
back to a less acrimonious note.

" Pontius," he said, " it is not difficult for me to
understand both your long-standing resentment and
your sinister forebodings. Truly, what you have
experienced of the character of the Jews is nothing

24 MOTHER OF PEARL

to their advantage. But I lived in Jerusalem as
an interested onlooker, and mingled freely with
the people, and I succeeded in detecting certain
obscure virtues in these rude folk which were alto-
gether hidden from you. I have met Jews who
were all mildness, whose simple manners and faith-
fulness of heart recalled to me what our poets
have related concerning the Spartan lawgiver.
And you yourself, Pontius, have seen perish be-
neath the cudgels of your legionaries simple-
minded men who have died for a cause they
believed to be just without revealing their names.
Such men do not deserve our contempt. I am
saying this because it is desirable in all things to
preserve moderation and an even mind. But I
own that I never experienced any lively sympathy
for the Jews. The Jewesses, on the contrary, I
found extremely pleasing. I was young then, and
the Syrian women stirred all my senses to response.
Their ruddy lips, their liquid eyes that shone in
the shade, their sleepy gaze pierced me to the very
marrow. Painted and stained, smelling of nard
and myrrh, steeped in odours, their physical attrac-
tions are both rare and delightful."

Pontius listened impatiently to these praises.

" I was not the kind of man to fall into the
snares of the Jewish women," he said ; " and since
you have opened the subject yourself, Lamia, I

THE PROCURATOR OF JUD^A 25

was never able to approve of your laxity. If I did
not express with sufficient emphasis formerly how
culpable I held you for having intrigued at Rome
with the wife of a man of consular rank, it was
because you were then enduring heavy penance for
your misdoings. Marriage from the patrician
point of view is a sacred tie ; it is one of
the institutions which are the support of Rome.
As to foreign women and slaves, such relations as
one may enter into with them would be of little
account were it not that they habituate the body to
a humiliating effeminacy. Let me tell you that
you have been too liberal in your offerings to the
Venus of the Market-place ; and what, above all, I
blame in you is that you have not married in
compliance with the law and given children to the
Republic, as every good citizen is bound to do."

But the man who had suffered exile under Tiberius
was no longer listening to the venerable magistrate.
Having tossed off his cup of Falernian, he was
smiling at some image visible to his eye alone.

After a moment's silence he resumed in a very
deep voice, which rose in pitch by little and little —

" With what languorous grace they dance, those
Syrian women ! I knew a Jewess at Jerusalem who
used to dance in a poky little room, on a thread-
bare carpet, by the light of one smoky little lamp,
waving her arms as she clanged her cymbals. Her

26 MOTHER OF PEARL

loins arched, her head thrown back, and, as it were,
dragged down by the weight of her heavy red hair,
her eyes swimming with voluptuousness, eager, lan-
guishing, compliant, she would have made Cleo-
patra herself grow pale with envy. I was in love
with her barbaric dances, her voice — a little raucous
and yet so sweet — her atmosphere of incense, the
semi-somnolescent state in which she seemed to live.
I followed her everywhere. I mixed with the vile
rabble of soldiers, conjurers, and extortioners with
which she was surrounded. One day, however, she
disappeared, and I saw her no more. Long did I
seek her in disreputable alleys and taverns. It was
more difficult to learn to do without her than to
lose the taste for Greek wine. Some months after
I lost sight of her, I learned by chance that she had
attached herself to a small company of men and
women who were followers of a young Galilean
thaumaturgist. His name was Jesus ; he came
from Nazareth, and he was crucified for some
crime, I don't quite know what. Pontius, do you
remember anything about the man ? "

Pontius Pilate contracted his brows, and his
hand rose to his forehead in the attitude of one
who probes the deeps of memory. Then after a
silence of some seconds —

" Jesus ? " he murmured, " Jesus — of Nazareth ?
I cannot call him to mind."

AMYCUS AND CELESTINE

TO GEORGES DE PORTO-RICHE

AMYCUS AND CELESTINE

RONE upon the threshold of his rude
cavern the hermit Celestine passed in
prayer the eve of the Easter Festival,
that unearthly night upon which the
shuddering demons are hurled into
the abyss. And whilst the shades still enveloped
the earth, at the moment when the exterminating
angel winged his flight across Egypt, Celestine
shivered, for he was seized with anguish and
unease. He heard from afar in the forest the
cries of the wild cats and the shrill voices of the
frogs. Immersed in the unholy darkness, he even
doubted whether the glorious mystery could come
to pass. But when he saw the first signals of the
day, gladness entered into his heart together with
the dawn ; he realized that Christ was risen from
the dead, and cried —

"Jesus is arisen from the grave. Love has
conquered death. Alleluia ! He is risen all
glorious from the foot of the hill. Alleluia ! The
whole creation is restored and made anew. Dark-

29

30 MOTHER OF PEARL

ness and evil are put to flight. Light and pardon
encompass the world. Alleluia ! "

A lark, awakened amidst the wheat, answered
him with song.

" He is risen again. I have dreamed of nests and
eggs — white eggs, flecked with brown. Alleluia !
He is risen again."

Then the hermit Celestine left his cavern to go
to the neighbouring chapel and celebrate the holy
Easter Feast.

As he passed through the forest he saw in the
midst of a glade a splendid beech, whose bursting
buds already gave passage to tiny leaves of a
tender green. Garlands of ivy and fillets of wool
were hung upon its branches, which spread out
groundwards. Votive tablets fastened to its gnarled
trunk spoke of youth and love, and here and there
some Eros, fashioned in clay, shorn of garments
and with outspread wings, balanced himself lightly
upon a branch. At this sight the hermit Celestine
knitted his whitened brows.

" It is the fairies' tree," he said, " and the
country maidens, according to ancient custom, have
laden it with offerings. My life is passed in
struggling against these fairies, and no one could
conceive the annoyance these tiny creatures cause
me. They do not openly rebel against me. Each
year at harvest time I exorcise the tree with the

AMYCUS AND CELESTINE 31

customary rites, and sing the Gospel of St. John
to them.

"There is nothing better to be done. Holy
water and the Gospel of St. John have power to
put them to flight, and there is nothing more heard
of the little damsels throughout the winter ; but in
the spring back they come once more, and each
year one must begin all over again.

"And they are subtle ; a single bush of hawthorn
is large enough to shelter a whole swarm. And
they cast their spells upon the young folks, both the
youths and the maidens.

"As I have grown older my sight has become dim
and now I can scarcely perceive their presence.
They make a mock of me, sport under my nose
and laugh in my beard. But when I was only
twenty, I often saw them in the clearings dancing in
circles beneath the light of the moon like garlands
of flowers. Oh, Lord God, Thou who madest the
heaven and the dew, praised be Thou in Thy
works. But why didst Thou create unholy trees
and fairy springs ? Why hast Thou planted
beneath the hazel the screaming mandrake ? These
things of nature seduce the young to sin, and arc
the cause of unnumbered labours to anchorites who,
like myself, have undertaken the sanctification of
Thy creatures. If only the Gospel of St. John
still availed to put the demons to flight ! But it is

32 MOTHER OF PEARL

no longer enough, and I am perplexed to know
what to do."

And as the good hermit went sighing on his way,
the tree — for it was a fairy tree — called to him with a
fresh rustling.

" Celestine ! Celestine ! My buds are eggs —
true Easter eggs. Alleluia ! Alleluia ! "

Celestine plunged into the wood without turning
his head. He made his way with difficulty by a
narrow path through the midst of thorns which tore
his gown, when suddenly the road was barred to
him by a young lad who came bounding out of a
thicket. He was half-clothed in the skin of some
beast, and was indeed rather a faun than a boy. His
glance was penetrating, his nose flattened, his
countenance laughing. His curly hair concealed
the two little horns upon his stubborn forehead ; his
lips disclosed white pointed teeth; a fair forked
beard descended from his chin. Upon his chest a
golden down shone. He was agile and slender, and
his cloven feet were hidden in the grass.

Celestine, who had made himself possessor of
all the wisdom to be won by meditation, saw at once
with whom he had to do, and raised his arm to
make the sign of the cross. But the faun, seizing
his hand, prevented him from completing the
mighty spell.

" Good hermit," said he, " do not exorcise me.

AMYCUS AND CELESTINE 33

For me, as for you, this day is a day of festival.
You would be wanting in charity if you should
plunge me in grief during the Easter Feast. If you
are willing, we will stroll along together, and you
will see that I am not malicious."

By good fortune Celestine was well versed in the
sacred sciences. He recalled to himself in these
circumstances that St. Jerome in the desert had had
for fellow-travellers both satyrs and centaurs who
had confessed the Truth.

He said to the faun —

" Faun raise a hymn to God. Declare : He is
risen."

" He is indeed arisen," replied the faun. " And
behold me all gladness thereupon."

Here the path widened, so that they walked side
by side. The hermit became pensive, and re-
flected—

" He cannot be a demon since he has witnessed
to the Truth. It is well that I refrained from
grieving him. The example of the great St. Jerome
has not been lost upon me."

Then,turningtowards his goat-footed companion,
he asked him —

" What is your name ? "

" I am called Amycus," replied the faun. " I
dwell in this wood, where I was born. I came to
you, good father, because behind your long white

34 MOTHER OF PEARL

beard your countenance was kindly. It seems to
me that hermits must be fauns borne down by the
years. When I am grown old I shall be like unto
you."

" He is risen," said the hermit.

" He is indeed arisen," said Amycus.

And thus conversing they climbed the hill on
which arose a chapel consecrated to the true God.
It was small and of homely construction. Celestine
had built it with his own hands with the fragments
of a temple of Venus. Within, the table of the
Lord stood forth shapeless and uncovered.

" Let us fall down," said the hermit, " and sing
Alleluia, for He is arisen. And do you, mysterious
being, remain kneeling whilst 1 offer the holy
sacrifice."

But the faun drew near to the hermit, and stroked
his beard, and said —

" Venerable old man, you are wiser than I, and
you can discern that which is invisible. But the
woods and the springs are better known to me than
to you. I will bring to God leafage and blossoms.
I know the banks where the cress half opens its
lilac clusters, the meadows where the cowslip
blossoms in yellow bunches. I detect by its faint
odour the mistletoe upon the wild apple tree.
Already the blackthorn bushes are decked with a
snowy crown of flowers. Wait for me, good father."

AMYCUS AND CELESTINE 35

With three goat-like leaps he was back in the
woods, and when he returned Celestine fancied he
beheld a walking hawthorn tree. Amycus had
disappeared beneath his odorous harvest. He hung
garlands of flowers about the rustic altar; he
sprinkled it with violets, and said solemnly —

" I dedicate these flowers to the God who gave
them being."

And whilst Celestine celebrated the sacrifice of
the mass, the goat-footed one bowed his horned
head down to the very ground and worshipped the
sun, and said —

" The earth is a vast egg which thou, O Sun,
most holy Sun, dost render fruitful."

From that day forward Celestine and Amycus
lived together in fellowship. The hermit never
succeeded, despite all his endeavours, in making
the half-human creature understand the ineffable
mysteries ; but as through the exertions of Amycus
the chapel of the true God was constantly hung
with garlands, and more gaily decked than the
fairies' tree, the holy priest said—

" The faun is himself a hymn to God."

And it was for this reason that he bestowed on
him the rite of holy baptism.

Upon the hill where Celestine once raised the
meagre chapel which Amycus garlanded with flowers
from the hills, the woods, and the streams, there

36 MOTHER OF PEARL

stands at the present day a church the nave of
which goes back to the eleventh century, whilst the
porch dates from the period of Henry II, when it
was rebuilt in the style of the Renaissance. It is a
place of pilgrimage, and the faithful assemble there
to hold in pious memory the saints Amycus and
Celestine.

THE LEGEND OF
SAINTS OLIVERIA AND LIBERETTA

TO MADEMOISELLE JEANNE POUQUET

THE LEGEND OF
SAINTS OLIVERIA AND LIBERETTA

CHAPTER I

How Mess ire St. Berthold, son of Theodulus, King of
Scotland, came over to the Ardennes to preach to the
inhabitants of the Pays Porcin.

HE forest of the Ardennes extended
at that time as far as the waters of the
Aisne, and covered the Pays Porcin,
in which now rises the town of

Rethel. Its ravines swarmed with

innumerable wild boars, stags of immense height of
a species now extinct thronged in the impenetrable
thickets, and wolves of prodigious strength were
encountered in winter on the skirts of the woods.
The basilisk and the unicorn had their quarters in
that forest, as well as a frightful dragon, which
later on, by the grace of God, met with destruction
at the prayers of a holy hermit. And because in
those days the mysteries of nature were revealed
to men, and for the glory of the Creator things

39

40 MOTHER OF PEARL

which were naturally invisible became visible, it
was common to meet in the clearings nymphs,
satyrs, centaurs, and aigypans.

Now it is in no respect doubtful that these male-
volent beings have indeed been seen just as they
have been described in the fables of the pagans.
But it must be remembered that they are devils, as
is apparent by their feet, which are cloven. Un-
happily the fairies are not so easy to detect ; these
have all the appearance of damsels, and at times
the resemblance is so pronounced that one must
possess all the prudence of a hermit if one would
avoid being deceived. The fairies also are demons,
and there were in the forest of the Ardennes great
numbers of them. It was for this very reason that
that forest so abounded in mystery and horror.

The Romans in the time of Caesar had con-
secrated it to Diana, and the inhabitants of the
Pays Porcin on the shores of the Aisne worshipped
an idol in the form of a woman. They made
offerings to her of cakes, milk, and honey, and
sang hymns in her honour.

Now Berthold, the son of Theodulus, King of
Scotland, having received holy baptism, lived in
the palace of his father, more after the fashion of
a hermit than of a prince. Close shut in his apart-
ment, he spent the livelong day in reciting prayers
and meditating upon the Holy Scriptures, and the

OLIVERIA AND LIBERETTA 41

desire kindled in him to imitate the labours of the
apostles. Having learned through a miraculous
source the abominations of the Pays Porcin, he
straightway loathed and resolved to put an end to
them.

He crossed the sea in a ship which had neither
sail nor rudder, and which was drawn by a swan.
Happily arrived in the Pays Porcin, he wandered
through the villages, the walled towns, and the
castles, announcing the glad tidings.

" The God whom I preach to you," he said, " is
the only true God. He is one God in three Per-
sons, and His Son was born of a Virgin."

But these rude men answered him —

" Youthful stranger, it is very simple on your
part to imagine that there is but one God. For
the gods are countless. They dwell in the woods,
the mountains, and the streams. There are even
gods so intimate that they do not disdain a place
by the hearths of pious men. Others, again, take
up their station in the stables and byres, and so
the race of the gods fills the whole universe. But
what you have to say about a Divine Virgin is not
without warrant. We know of a Virgin with a
threefold countenance to whom we sing canticles,
and say, * Hail most benign ! Hail most terrible ! * She
is called Diana, and beneath her silvery tread under
the pale beams of the moon the mountain thyme

42 MOTHER OF PEARL

bursts into blossom. She has not disdained to
receive upon her couch blossoming hyacinths, the
offering of shepherds and huntsmen like ourselves.
Nevertheless, she remains ever virgin."

Thus spake these ignorant men whilst they drove
the apostle to the confines of the village, and
pursued him with mocking words.

CHAPTER II

Of the meeting between Messire St. Eerthold and the
two sisters Oliveria and Liberetta.

OW one day as he pursued his
journey, overcome with weariness
and grief, he fell in with two young
girls, who were setting forth from
their castle for a jaunt in the woods.
He made several steps towards them, and then
stood off at a distance for fear of alarming them,
and said —

" Give ear, young virgins. I am Berthold, son
of Theodulus, King of Scotland. But I have dis-
dained perishable crowns that I might be worthy
at last to receive at the hand of the angels the
Crown that fadeth not away. And I journeyed
hither in a ship, drawn by a swan, to bring you
the glad tidings."

" Sir Berthold," replied the elder, " my name
is Oliveria, and that of my sister is Liberetta.
Our father, Thierry, who is also called Porphyro-
dimus, is the wealthiest lord in the country.
Willingly will we listen to your good tidings.

43

44 MOTHER OF PEARL

But you appear overcome with fatigue. I counsel
you to go and await us in the hall of our father,
who is at this moment drinking the good ale with
his friends. When he learns that you are a Scottish
prince, he will without question assign you a place
at his table. Farewell, till we meet again, Sir
Berthold. We are going, my sister and I, to
gather flowers as an offering to Diana."

But the apostle Berthold replied —

" It is not for me to go and seat myself at a
pagan's table. This Diana whom you imagine to
be a heavenly virgin is in very truth a demon out
of hell. The true God is one God in three Persons,
and Jesus Christ His Son became Man and died
upon the cross for the salvation of all men. And
verily I tell you, Oliveria and Liberetta, a drop of
His blood flowed on behalf of each one of you."

Then he discoursed to them with so much
ardour of the holy mysteries, that the hearts of the
two sisters were moved thereby. The elder sister
took up the discourse anew.

" Sir Berthold," she said, " you disclose unheard-
of mysteries. But it is not always an easy matter
to distinguish truth from error. It would be pain-
ful to us to abandon our devotion to Diana.
Nevertheless, let but a sign of the truth of your
words appear to us, and we will believe in Jesus
crucified."

OLIVERIA AND LIBERETTA 45

But the younger sister said to the apostle —

"My sister Oliveria has asked for a sign be-
cause she is of a prudent nature and full of wisdom.
But if your God is the true God, Sir Berthold,
would that I might know and love Him without
being impelled by a sign."

The man of God understood by these words
that Liberetta was born to become a great saint.
And on this account he replied —

" Sister Liberetta and Sister Oliveria, I have re-
solved to retire into that forest, there to lead the ere-
mitical life which is both desirable and rare. I shall
dwell in a hut of interlaced boughs, and support
life upon roots. I shall pray unceasingly to God
to change the hearts of the men of this country,
and I shall bestow my benediction on the springs,
so that the fairy folk may cease to come thither for
the beguiling of sinners. Nevertheless, my sister
Oliveria shall receive the sign for which she has
asked. And a messenger sent by the Lord himself
shall guide you both to my hermitage in order that
1 may instruct you in the faith of Jesus Christ."

Having spoken after this fashion, St. Berthold
gave his blessing to the two sisters with the im-
position of hands. After which he fared forth into
the forest, from which he never afterwards emerged.

CHAPTER III

How the unicorn came to the hall of Thierry, otherwise
called Porphyrodimus, and conducted the two sisters
Oliveria and Liberetta to the retreat of Messire St.
Berthold, and of divers marvels that ensued.

OW one day, being alone in the
kitchen, Oliveria was spinning wool
beneath the chimney canopy when
she saw approach her a beast of a
perfect whiteness which had the body
of a goat and the head of a horse, and which bore
on its forehead a shining spear. Oliveria im-
mediately recognized what animal it was, and as
she had maintained her innocence she was not in
the least afraid, being aware that the unicorn
never does any harm to discreet maidens. And
indeed the unicorn did but place his head gently
upon Oliveria's knees. Then turning again to-
wards the door, by the direction of its eyes it
invited the young girl to follow it without.

Oliveria immediately called her sister, but when
Liberetta entered the room the unicorn had dis-
appeared ; and so it came about that Liberetta, in

46

OLIVERIA AND LIBERETTA 47

accordance with her desire, acknowledged the true
God without having been constrained by a sign.

The two sisters set forth in the direction of the
forest, and the unicorn, who had once more become
visible, walked ahead of them. They pursued
throughout their journey the trail of the wild
beasts. And it came to pass that when they had
reached the depths of the wood, they saw the
unicorn take to the water and swim across a torrent.
Now when they came to the water's edge they were
aware that it was both wide and deep. They
leaned over it to see if perchance there might be
any stepping-stones by means of which they could
cross, but none such could they discover. Now
whilst they were leaning upon a willow and gazing
upon the foaming waters, the tree bent down
suddenly and bore them without effort to the
opposite shore.

Thus, then, they arrived at the hermitage, where
St. Berthold imparted unto them the words of life.
Upon their return, the willow uprearing itself again
bore them back to the other side.

Each day they betook themselves to the dwelling
of the holy man, and when they returned to their
own home they found that all the thread on their
distaffs had been spun by invisible hands. For these
reasons, then, having received baptism, they believed
in Jesus Christ.

48 MOTHER OF PEARL

For more than a year they received instruction
from St. Berthold, when Thierry their father, who
was also called Porphyrodimus, was seized with
a cruel malady. Being aware that the end of their
father was drawing nigh, his daughters instructed
him in the Christian faith. He acknowledged the
truth. And so it came about that his death was
most meritorious. He was ensepulchred near to
his mortal home in a place known as the Giant's
Mountain, and in after days his tomb was venerated
throughout the Pays Porcin.

Meanwhile the two sisters repaired daily to the
dwelling of the holy hermit Berthold, and they
gathered from his lips the words of life. But on
a certain day when the rivers were greatly swollen
by the melted snows, Oliveria, as she went through
the vineyards, took a prop that she might with
greater security cross the torrent whose much
widened stream sped along riotously.

Liberetta, disdaining all human aid, declined to
follow her example. She was the first to reach
the torrent, her hands armed solely with the sign
of the cross. And the willow bent down in its
customary way. Then it rose erect once more,
and when Oliveria in her turn desired to pass over
it remained motionless. And the current broke
her prop as if it had been a wisp of straw and
carried it away. And Oliveria remained still on

OLIVERIA AND LIBERETTA 49

the hither side. But since she was discreet she
recognized that she was justly punished for having
doubted the heavenly powers, and for not having
committed herself to the grace of God after the
manner of her sister Liberetta. Thereafter she
had no other thought but to win pardon for herself"
by works of penitence and self-denial. So being
resolved, after the example of St. Berthold, to lead
the eremitical life which is both desirable and rare,
she remained in the forest on this side of the
torrent, and built herself a hut of boughs inter-
laced at a spot where a spring gushed forth, which
has since received the name of St. Olive's well.

CHAPTER IV

How Messire St. Berthold, and Mesdames Saints
Liberetta and Otiveria came to their blissful con-
summation.

IBERETTA having arrived at the
dwelling of the blessed Berthold
alone, found him in a contempla-
tive attitude quite dead. His body,
attenuated by fasting, exhaled a
delicious fragrance. With her own hands she
buried him. From this day forward the virgin
Liberetta, having taken leave of the world, led
the eremitical life on the other side of the torrent,
in a hut by the edge of a spring, which has since
been known as the well of St. Liberetta, or Liberia,
whose miraculous waters cure fevers as well as
divers maladies with which cattle are afflicted.

The two sisters never saw one another again in
this world. But, by the intercession of the blessed
Berthold, God sent into the Ardennes from the
country of the Lombards the deacon VulfaY, or
Valfroy, who overturned the idol of Diana and
converted the inhabitants of the Pays Porcin to

50

OLIVERIA AND LIBERETTA 51

the Christian faith. Thereupon Oliveria and
Libcretta were overwhelmed with joy.

But a little time after this the Lord called to
Himself his servant Liberetta, and sent the unicorn
to dig a grave and bury the body of the saint.
Oliveria was aware, through a revelation, of the
blissful death of her sister, Liberetta, and a voice
said to her —

" Because you asked for a sign before you would
believe, and took a prop to lean upon, the hour of
your blissful death will be delayed and the day of
your consummation postponed."

And Oliveria replied to the voice —

" May the will of the Lord be done on earth as
it is in heaven."

She lived ten years longer in expectation of
eternal beatitude, which commenced for her in the
month of October, in the year of Our Lord 364.

ST. EUPHROSINE

TO GASTON-ARMAN DE CAILLAVET

ST. EUPHROSINE

The acts of St. Euphrosine of Alexandria, in religion
Brother Smaragdus, as they were set forth in the
Laura on Mount Athos by George the Deacon.

UPHROSINE was the only daughter
of a rich citizen of Alexandria, named
Romulus, who was careful to have
her instructed in music, dancing,
and arithmetic in such fashion that
at the close of her childhood she displayed a subtle
and unusually adorned intelligence. She had not
yet completed her eleventh year when the magis-
trates of Alexandria caused to be announced in the
streets that a golden cup would be awarded as a
prize to whomsoever should produce an exact reply
to the three following questions.

First Question : I am the dusky child of a
luminous sire ; a wingless bird, yet I rise to the
clouds. With no spark of malice, I yet draw tears
from the eyes I encounter. Scarcely am I born
when I vanish into air. Tell me, friend, what is
my name ?

Second Question : I beget my mother, yet am

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56 MOTHER OF PEARL

by her brought forth, and sometimes I am longer
and sometimes shorter. Tell me, friend, what is
my name ?

Third Question : Antipater possesses as much as
Nicomedes and a third of the share of Themistius.
Nicomedes possesses as much as Themistius and a
third of what Antipater owns. Themistius possesses
ten minas and a third of what Nicomedes owns.
What is the sum which belongs to each ?

Now, on the day set apart for the gathering, a
number of young men presented themselves before
the judges in the hope of winning the golden cup,
but not one of them gave correct replies. The
president was about to bring the sitting to an end
when the youthful Euphrosine, in her turn drawing
near to the tribunal, asked to be heard. Every one
admired the modesty of her bearing and the win-
some shamefacedness which lent a blush to her
cheeks.

" Most illustrious judges," she said, lowering
her eyes, "after having given the glory to our
Lord Jesus Christ, the beginning and the end of
all wisdom, I will endeavour to reply to the ques-
tions which your worships have propounded, and
I will begin with the first. The dusky child is
smoke, which is born of fire, rises in the air, and
by its pungency draws tears from our eyes. So
much for the first question.

ST. EUPHROSINE 57

" Now to reply to the second. That which
begets its mother and is by her brought forth is
nothing other than the day, which is sometimes long
and sometimes short, according to the season. So
much for the second question.

"And now to answer the third. Antipater
possesses forty-five minas, Nicomedes has but
thirty-seven and a half, whilst Themistius has
twenty-two and a half. That is my third answer."
The judges, marvelling at the correctness of
these replies, awarded the prize to the youthful
Euphrosine. Thereupon the most venerable among
them, having risen, presented her with the golden
cup, and encircled her forehead with a garland of
papyrus by way of honouring the keen intelligence
she had displayed. Then the virgin was conducted
home to her father's house to the sound of flutes
amidst a great concourse of people.

But as she was a Christian and pious in no
ordinary degree, far from being puffed up with
these honours, she recognized their emptiness, and
resolved that in the future she would apply the
keenness of her intelligence to the solution of
problems more worthy of attention — as, for example,
the computation of the sum of the numbers repre-
sented by the letters of the name of Jesus, and the
consideration of the wonderful properties of these
numbers.

58 MOTHER OF PEARL

Meanwhile she grew in wisdom and in beauty,
and was sought in marriage by very many young
men. Amongst these was the Count Longinus,
who possessed great wealth. Romulus received
this suitor favourably, hoping that an alliance with
this powerful man might assist him in the re-
habilitation of his own affairs, which had got into
disorder through his vast expenditure upon his
palace, his plate, and his gardens. Romulus, who
was one of the most lavish amongst the inhabi-
tants of Alexandria, had above all squandered
considerable sums in gathering together in his
mansion, beneath a vast cupola, the most wonderful
examples of mechanism, such as a globe as brilliant
as a sapphire, bearing on it the heavenly constella-
tions set out with exactitude in precious stones.
There were also to be seen in this chamber a
fountain, constructed by Hero, which distributed
perfumed waters, and two mirrors so cunningly
contrived that they converted the gazer, the one
into a person of extreme height and slenderness,
and the other into a person equally short and
stout. But the most marvellous sight in this
mansion was a hawthorn bush all covered with
birds, which by ingenious mechanism both sang
and fluttered their wings as if they had been alive.
Romulus had expended the remains of his wealth
in the acquisition of these mechanical toys, which

ST. EUPHROSINE 59

fascinated him. This, then, was the reason for his
favourable reception of the Count Longinus, the
possessor of great wealth. xHe urged forward by
all means in his power the consummation of a
marriage from which he anticipated both happiness
for his daughter and relief from anxiety in his
old age. But each time that he recounted to
Euphrosine the claims of Count Longinus, she
turned her glance aside without making any reply.
One day he said to her —

"Will you not admit, my daughter, that he is
the handsomest, the wealthiest, and the noblest
citizen in all Alexandria ? "

Euphrosine replied discreetly —

" Willingly do I admit it, dear father. Indeed,
I am convinced that Count Longinus surpasses all
the citizens of this town in noble birth, worldly
possessions, and personal beauty. Consequently,
if I refuse to accept him as a husband there is little
likelihood that any other will succeed where he has
failed, and induce me to change my resolution,
which is to consecrate my virginity to Jesus
Christ."

When he heard of this determination Romulus
fell into a violent passion, and swore that he knew
well enough how to force Euphrosine to espouse
Count Longinus ; and without breaking forth into
idle threats, he added that this marriage was re-

60 MOTHER OF PEARL

solved upon in his mind, and that it would be
carried through without delay, whilst if his paternal
authority did not suffice he would add to it that of
the Emperor, who being divine, would not allow
a daughter to disobey her father in a matter which
was of so much public and State importance as the
marriage of a woman of patrician rank.

Euphrosine was aware that her father had great
influence with the Emperor, who at that time lived
at Constantinople. She perceived that in this
perilous situation she had no hope of assistance
except from Count Longinus himself. On this
account she entreated him to come to her in the
basilica for a private interview.

Impelled by hope as well as curiosity, Count
Longinus betook himself to the basilica all bedecked
with gold and precious stones. The maiden did
not make him wait. But when he saw her appear
with dishevelled hair, wrapped in a black veil like a
suppliant, he drew an evil augury from the sight,
and his heart was disturbed.

Euphrosine was the first to speak.

" Most illustrious Longinus," she said to him,
" if you love me as much as you declare, you will
fear to do aught displeasing to me ; and, indeed, it
would be giving me a mortal blow were you to lead
me away to your house to have your pleasure of
this body, which, with my soul, I have dedicated to

ST. EUPHROSINE 61

Our Lord Jesus Christ, the beginning and the end
of all love."

But Count Longinus answered her —

"Most illustrious Euphrosine, love is stronger
even than our wills ; that is why it behoves us to
bow before him as before a jealous master. I shall
act towards you after the fashion he ordains, which
is to take you for my wife."

" Is it becoming that a man — an illustrious
man, too — should rob the Lord of His be-
trothed?"

" As to that, I shall take counsel from the bishops
rather than from you."

These plans threw the young girl into the most
lively consternation. She realized that she had no
compassion to expect from this man of violence,
governed altogether by his senses, and that the
bishops could not enforce recognition of secret
vows made by her to God in solitude. And in the
excess of her uneasiness she had recourse to an
artifice so singular that it is more to be marvelled
at than held up as an example.

Her resolution being taken, she feigned to yield
to the wishes of her father and the entreaties of her
lover. She even suffered them to fix a day for the
ceremony of betrothal. Count Longinus had already
caused the jewels and ornaments destined for his
bride to be placed in the marriage coffers ; he had

62 MOTHER OF PEARL

ordered for her twelve gowns, upon which were
embroidered scenes from the Old and the New
Testament, the legends of the Greeks, the history of
animals, as well as the divine presentments of the
Emperor and Empress, with their retinue of lords
and ladies. One of these coffers, moreover, con-
tained books upon theology and arithmetic written
in letters of gold upon sheets of parchment, purple
tinctured, and preserved between plates of ivory
and gold.

Euphrosine, however, remained the day long shut
up alone in her chamber, and the reason she gave
for her withdrawal was that it behoved her to make
ready her wedding garments.

" It would be most unfitting," she said, " if
certain portions of my vesture should be shaped
and sewn by any other hands than mine."

And in very truth she wielded her needle from
morning till night. But that which she made ready
secretly in this fashion was neither the symbolical
veil of the virgin nor the white robe of the
betrothed. What she prepared was the rough
hood, short tunic, and loose breeches which the
young artisans in towns are accustomed to wear
while engaged in their labours. And whilst she
fulfilled this undertaking she constantly invoked
Jesus Christ, the beginning and the end of all the
achievements of the upright. For this cause, then,

ST. EUPHROSINE 63

she happily completed her clandestine task on the
eighth day before that which had been fixed for the
solemnization of the marriage. She remained all
that day in prayer ; then, after having presented
herself, according to her custom, to receive her
father's kiss, she returned to her chamber and cut
off her hair, which fell to her feet like skeins of
gold, donned her short tunic, fastened the breeches
about her waist with woollen straps, drew the hood
down over her eyes, and, night having fallen, noise-
lessly left the house whilst all, masters and ser-
vants alike, were sleeping. Only the dog was still
awake, but as he knew her he followed her for a
short time in silence, and then returned to his
kennel.

With rapid steps she made her way through the
deserted city, where the only sounds audible were
the occasional cries of drunken sailors and the
heavy tread of the watchmen on duty in pursuit of
robbers. And since God was with her she suffered
no insult from man. Then, having passed through
one of the gates of Alexandria, she set out towards
the desert, following the course of the canals
covered with papyrus and blue lotus. At the
break of day she passed through a wretched village
of working people. An old man was singing in
front of his door whilst he polished a coffin made
of sycamore wood. When she came abreast of him,

64 MOTHER OF PEARL

he raised his hairy and featureless face, and cried
out —

" By Jupiter ! here comes the infant Eros, carry-
ing a little pot of ointment to his mother! How
delicate and pretty he is. In truth, he sparkles
with attractiveness. They are liars who say that
the gods have departed. For this youth is a veri-
table little god."

Then the prudent Euphrosine, informed by this
speech that the old man was a pagan, had pity upon
his ignorance, and prayed to God for his salvation.
That prayer was granted. The old man, who was
a coffin-maker, bearing the name of Porou, was in
course of time converted, and took the name of
Philotheos.

Now, after a journey of a whole day, Euphro-
sine arrived at a monastery where, under the
governance of the abbot Onophrius, six hundred
monks observed the admirable rule of St. Paco-
mius. She asked to be led before Onophrius, and
said to him —

" My father, I am called Smaragdus, and I am
an orphan. I beg you to receive me into your
holy habitation, to the end that I may there enjoy
the delights of fasting and repentance."

The abbot Onophrius, who had then attained
the age of one hundred and six years, replied —

" Smaragdus, my child, beautiful are your feet,

ST. EUPHROSINE 6$

for they have guided you to this dwelling ; beauti-
ful are your hands, for they have knocked at this
door. You hunger and thirst after fasting and
abstinence. Come, and you shall be satisfied.
Happy the child who flics from the world whilst
yet he wears his robe of innocence. The souls
of men are exposed to deadly perils in the towns,
and particularly in Alexandria, on account of the
women who flock there in great numbers. Woman
is to man so great a danger that even at my age
the thought alone sends a shudder through all my
frame. If one with sufficient effrontery should pre-
sume to enter into this holy house, my arm would
suddenly recover its strength to hale her hence
with heavy blows from this pastoral cross. It is
our duty, my son, to worship God in all His
works ; but it is a profound mystery of His
providence that He should have created woman.
Stay with us, Smaragdus, my child ; for it is cer-
tainly God who has led you hither."

After having been received in this fashion into
the family of the holy man Onophrius, Euphrosine
donned the monastic habit.

In her cell she praised the Lord, and rejoiced in
her pious fraud upon this consideration, that her
father and her lover would not fail to make search
for her in all the convents for women in order to
apprehend her by order of the Emperor, but that

66 MOTHER OF PEARL

they would never succeed in finding her in this
refuge where Jesus Christ Himself had lovingly
hidden her.

For three years she led the most edifying life
in her cell, and the virtues of the youthful
Smaragdus perfumed the monastery. For this
cause the abbot Onophrius entrusted her with
the duties of guest-master or porter, counting
upon the prudence of the young monk as to the
reception of strangers, and above all the exclusion
of any women who might attempt to enter the
monastery. For, said the holy man, woman is
impure, and the mere mark of her footsteps is an
infectious pollution.

Now Smaragdus had been guest-master for five
years, when a stranger knocked at the door of the
monastery. It was a man who was still young ;
his habiliments were magnificent, and he retained
a remnant of pride ; but he was pale and emaciated,
and his eyes were inflamed with a restless melan-
choly.

"Brother guest-master," said this man, "con-
duct me into the presence of the holy abbot
Onophrius, that he may assoil me, for, I am a prey
to a mortal ill."

Smaragdus, having begged the stranger to seat
himself upon a stool, informed him that Onophrius,
having reached his hundred and fourteenth year,

ST. EUPHROSINE 67

had, in view of his approaching end, gone to visit
the caves of the Holy Anchorites, Amon and
Orcisus.

At this news the visitor sank down upon the
stool and hid his head in his hands.

" I can no longer hope for healing, then," he
murmured.

And raising his head again, he added —

" It is the love of a woman that has reduced me
to this miserable state."

Not till then did Euphrosine recognize Count
Longinus. She feared that he likewise might recog-
nize her. But she soon reassured herself, and was
seized with pity to see him looking so cast down
and discomfited.

After a long silence, Count Longinus exclaimed —

" I would fain become a monk to escape from
my despair."

Then he told the story of his love, and how his
betrothed, Euphrosine, had suddenly disappeared ;
how for eight years he had sought her and failed
to find her, and how he was consumed and wasted
with love and grief.

She answered him with a gentleness that was
heavenly.

" My lord, this Euphrosine, whose love you so
bitterly deplore, was not worthy of so much love.
Her beauty was not so precious, except in the ideal

68 MOTHER OF PEARL

you yourself have formed of it ; in truth, it is vile
and contemptible. It was perishable, and what
remains of it is not worth a regret. You believe
yourself unable to live without Euphrosine, and
yet, if you should happen to meet her, you might
even fail to recognize her."

Count Longinus answered not a word, but this
speech, or possibly the voice in which it was pro-
nounced, made a happy impression on his soul. He
departed in a more tranquil mood, and promised to
return.

And indeed he did return, and being desirous of
embracing the monastic life, he asked the holy abbot
Onophrius for a cell, and made a gift to the
monastery of all his possessions, which were im-
mense. This was a source of great satisfaction to
Euphrosine. But some time after this her heart
was overwhelmed with a still greater joy.

It was in this way. A beggar, bending beneath
the weight of his satchel and having only sordid
rags to cover his nakedness, came to ask a morsel
of bread from the charitable monks. In him
Euphrosine recognized Romulus, her father; but
pretending not to know who he was, she made him
sit down, washed his feet, and set food before him.

" Child of God," said the beggar, " I was not
always a penniless wanderer such as now you see
me. Once I possessed great wealth and a very

ST. EUPHROSINE 69

beautiful daughter, who was also very prudent and
very learned. She unravelled the enigmas pro-
pounded in the public competitions, and on one
occasion even received from the magistrates the
papyrus crown. I lost her — I lost all my posses-
sions. I am consumed with regret for my daughter
and my wealth. I had above all things a bush full
of birds which, by a marvellous contrivance, sang
as though naturally. And now I have not even a
mantle to cover me. Nevertheless, I should be
comforted if before I die I might see once again my
well-beloved daughter."

As he concluded these words Euphrosine threw
herself at his feet, and said through her tears —

" My father, I am Euphrosine, your daughter,
who one night fled from your house. And the dog
did not bark. Your pardon, my father. For I
have not accomplished these things except by the
permission of our Lord Jesus Christ."

And after she had recounted to the old man the
manner of her flight, disguised as a workman, to
that very house where she had since passed eight
peaceful years in hiding, she showed him a mark
she had upon her neck. And by this sign Romulus
recognized his daughter. He embraced her tenderly
and bathed her in his tears, marvelling at the
mysterious workings of the Lord.

And for this reason he resolved to become a

70 MOTHER OF PEARL

monk and to take up his abode in the monastery of
the holy abbot Onophrius. With his own hands
he built himself a cell of reeds next to that of
Count Longinus. They chanted the psalms and
cultivated the ground. During the hours of rest
they conversed upon the vanity of earthly affec-
tions and the riches of this world. But Romulus
never disclosed anything to anybody concerning
his wonderful recognition of his daughter Euphro-
sine, thinking it much for the best that Count
Longinus and the abbot Onophrius should learn the
details of her adventures in Paradise, when they
would have attained a full understanding of the
ways of God. Longinus never knew that his
betrothed was close beside him. All three lived for
several years longer in the practice of all the virtues,
and by the special favour of Providence they all
three fell asleep in the Lord almost at the same
time. Count Longinus passed away first. Romulus
died two months later, and St. Euphrosine, after
she had closed his eyes, was during the same week
called to heaven by Jesus Christ with the words :
" Come, my dove." St. Onophrius followed them
to the tomb, to which he descended full of
merits in the hundred and thirty-second year
of his age, on the holy day of Easter, in the
year 395 after the incarnation of the Son of God.
May the Archangel St. Michael make intercession

ST. EUPHROSINE 71

for us ! Here end the acts of St. Euphrosine.
Amen.

Such is the narrative of George the Deacon,
written in the Laura on Mount Athos at a period
which may vary from the seventh to the fourteenth
century of the Christian era. As to this I waver,
since it is a matter of great uncertainty. This
narrative is now for the first time published ; I have
the best of reasons for being sure on this point.
I should be glad to have equally good reasons for
thinking that it deserved to be put forth. I have
translated with a fidelity which has doubtless been
only too perceptible since it has infected my own
style with a Byzantine stiffness the inconvenience
of which seems to myself almost intolerable.
George the Deacon told his tale with less graceful-
ness than Herodotus, or Plutarch even. So that
one may perceive by his example that periods of
decadence are sometimes less impregnated with
charm and daintiness than is the common opinion
nowadays. This demonstration is perhaps the
principal merit my work can claim. That work will
be criticized vigorously, and no doubt questions
may be put to me to which I may find it difficult to
reply. The text which I have followed is not in
the hand of George the Deacon. I do not know if
it is complete. I foresee that lacunae and inter-
polations will be pointed out. Monsieur Schlum-

72 MOTHER OF PEARL

bergcr will hold in suspicion various formularies
employed in the course of the narrative, and Mon-
sieur Alfred Rambaud will question the episode of
the old man Porou. I reply beforehand that, having
but a single text, I could do no other than follow
it. It is in very bad condition and hardly legible.
But one is bound to declare that all the master-
pieces of classical antiquity in which we take such
delight have come down to us in the same condi-
tion. I have excellent reasons for believing that in
transcribing the text of my Deacon I have made
tremendous blunders, and that my translation teems
with misconceptions. Possibly even it is nothing
but a misconception from beginning to end. If
this should not appear so patently as one might
fear, it is because invariably the most unintelligible
text has some sort of meaning to him who trans-
lates it. Were this not the case, erudition would
cease to have any reason for continued existence.
I have compared the narrative of George the Deacon
with the passages in Rufinus and St. Jerome relat-
ing to St. Euphrosine. I am bound to say that it
does not altogether agree with them. It is doubt-
less for this reason that my publisher has inserted
this learned work in a light collection of tales.

SCHOLASTICA

TO MAURICE SPRONCK

SCHOLASTICA

T the time of which we speak, which
was the fourth century of the Chris-
tian era, the youthful Injuriosus, only
son of a senator of Auvergne (so the
municipal officers were called), sought
in marriage a young girl named Scholastica, who,
like himself, was the only child of a senator. His
suit was favourably received. And the marriage
ceremony having been celebrated, he conducted her
to his house, and led her into the bridal chamber.
Whereupon, with a mournful countenance, she
turned herself to the wall and wept bitterly.

"What is the cause of your distress? Tell me, I
beg of you."

Then, as she maintained silence, he added —
" I entreat you by our Lord Jesus Christ, the
Son of God, to show me plainly the reason for
your lamentations."

Then she turned towards him and said —
" If I were to weep every day of life that re-
mains to me, I should not shed tears enough to
express the profound grief with which my heart is

75

76 MOTHER OF PEARL

filled. This feeble body I had determined to pre-
serve in all purity, and to present my virginity as
an offering to Jesus Christ. Alas, and woe is me !
that I am in such a fashion forsaken as to be unable
to fulfil what I had resolved upon ! Oh, day which
never should have dawned upon me ! Behold me
severed from the heavenly spouse who had pro-
mised me paradise for a marriage portion,and become
the bride of a mortal man, whilst that head which
should have been crowned with the roses of im-
mortality, is decked, or rather disfigured, with
roses which already begin to wither. Alas ! that body
which upon the margin of the fourfold stream of
the Lamb should have been endued with the gar-
ment of purity, bears instead the vile burden of
the nuptial veil. Ah ! why was not the first day
of my life even also the last ? Happy had I been
had I entered the gates of death ere a single drop
of milk had passed my lips ! Oh, that the kisses of
my gentle nurses had been bestowed upon my
bier ! When you hold out your hands towards
me, I recall the hands which for the salvation of
the world were pierced with nails."

And as she finished these words she wept
bitterly.

The young man answered her persuasively —
" Scholastica, our parents are of the rich and
noble amongst the dwellers in Auvergne, nor have

SCHOLASTICA 77

yours more than a single daughter nor mine than
an only son. They wished for our union as a
means of continuing their families, lest after their
death a stranger should enter into possession of
their belongings."

But Scholastica replied —

"This world is nothing, and riches are nothing,
and this life itself is nothing. Is that life which is
nothing but a waiting upon death ? They alone live
who, in unending blessedness, bathe in the Light,
and know the joy of angels in the possession of
God."

At this moment Injuriosus, touched by grace,
exclaimed —

" Ah, sweet and simple words, the light of life
eternal glances upon my eyes ! Scholastica, if you
wish to hold fast to that you have resolved, I also
at your side will lead a virgin life."

More than half reassured, and already smiling
through her tears, she said —

" Injuriosus, for a man to grant to a woman a
boon such as this is a difficult matter. But if you
should procure that we keep ourselves unspotted
from the world, a part of the marriage portion
which my spouse and Lord Jesus Christ has pro-
mised to me will I give unto you."

Then, fortified by the sign of the cross, he said —

" I shall do that which you desire."

78 MOTHER OF PEARL

And clasping one another's hands, they fell
asleep.

And from that time forward, sharing the same
nuptial couch, they passed their days in un-
exampled chastity. After ten years of trial Scho-
lastica died.

According to the customs of the day, her body
was borne into the basilica, in gala dress, and with
uncovered face, to the chant of psalms, and followed
by the whole populace.

Kneeling down beside her, in a loud voice In-
juriosus uttered these words —

" I give Thee hearty thanks, Lord Jesus, that
Thou hast bestowed upon me strength to preserve
Thy treasure uninjured."

Upon these words, she that was dead rose up
upon her funeral couch and smiled, and murmured
softly —

" My friend, why do you declare that which no
man has asked of you ? "

Whereupon she resumed her everlasting rest.

Injuriosus soon followed her to the tomb. They
buried him not far from her in the basilica of
Saint Allire. The first night after he was laid there
a miraculous rose tree sprang from the grave of
the virgin bride and enwrapped both tombs in its
flower-besprent embraces. So that on the morrow
the folk beheld them bound fast one to the other

SCHOLASTICA 79

by chains of roses. Recognizing by this sign the
sanctity of the blessed Injuriosus and the blessed
Scholastica, the priests of Auvergne held up these
shrines to the veneration of the faithful. But in
this province, which had been evangelized by Saints
Allire and Nepotian, pagans still dwelt. One of
these, by name Sylvan us, still held sacred the
springs dedicated to the nymphs, hung votive
pictures upon the branches of an ancient oak, and
cherished by his fireside little images in clay
representing the sun and the goddesses of fruitful-
ness. Half hidden amid the foliage, the garden
god watched over his orchard. Sylvanus passed
his declining years in the writing of verse. He
composed eclogues and elegies in a style a little
stiff perhaps, but not wanting in skill, and into
these poems, whenever he could manage to do so,
he introduced verses from the bards of old. With
the general populace he too visited the spot where
the Christian spouses were laid, and the good man
marvelled at the rose tree which decked the two
tombs. And as, after his fashion, he was pious, he
recognized therein a heavenly sign. But he attri-
buted the prodigy to his own gods, and doubted
nothing that the rose tree flourished by the will of
Eros.

Said he : " Now that she is nothing but a vain
shadow, the tristful Scholastica regrets the hours

80 MOTHER OF PEARL

when love was timely and the pleasures she re-
nounced. These roses, which come forth from
her body and express her thoughts, say to us who
still survive : Love while ye may. This prodigy
indeed instructs us to taste the joys of life while
it is yet time."

Thus reflected this simple pagan. Upon this
subject he composed an elegy which by the greatest
of chances I unearthed in the public library at
Tarascony on the binding of a Bible of the eleventh
century, catalogued Michel Chasles Collection F n
7439, i"]* bis. The precious leaf which had so far
escaped the notice of the learned, contains not fewer
than eighty-four lines in a fairly legible Merovingian
script probably dating from the seventh century.
The text begins with these words —

Nunc piget ; et quaeris, quod non aut ista volontas
Tune fuit. . . .*

and finishes in this fashion —

Stringamus maesti carminis obsequio.8

1 shall not fail to publish the complete text so soon
as I have finished deciphering it. And I do not
doubt that Monsieur Leopold Delislc himself will
undertake to present this invaluable document to
the Academy of Inscriptions.

1 Now regret rankles, and thou crayest that

Thou didst reject. . . .

2 Weave we the tribute of a mournful song.

OUR LADY'S JUGGLER

TO GASTON PARIS

OUR LADY'S JUGGLER

N the days of King Louis there was a
poor juggler in France, a native of
Compiegne, Barnaby by name, who
went about from town to town per-
forming feats of skill and strength.
On fair days he would unfold an old worn-out
carpet in the public square, and when by means of
a jovial address, which he had learned of a very
ancient juggler, and which he never varied in the
least, he had drawn together the children and
loafers, he assumed extraordinary attitudes, and
balanced a tin plate on the tip of his nose. At
first the crowd would feign indifference.

But when, supporting himself on his hands face
downwards, he threw into the air six copper balls,
which glittered in the sunshine, and caught them
again with his feet; or when throwing himself back-
wards until his heels and the nape of the neck
met, giving his body the form of a perfect wheel,
he would juggle in this posture with a dozen knives,
a murmur of admiration would escape the spectators,
and pieces of money rain down upon the carpet.

83

84 MOTHER OF PEARL

Nevertheless, like the majority of those who live
by their wits, Barnaby of Compiegne had a great
struggle to make a living.

Earning his bread in the sweat of his brow, he
bore rather more than his share of the penalties
consequent upon the misdoings of our father
Adam.

Again, he was unable to work as constantly as he
would have been willing to do. The warmth of
the sun and the broad daylight were as necessary
to enable him to display his brilliant parts as to the
trees if flower and fruit should be expected of
them. In winter time he was nothing more than a
tree stripped of its leaves, and as it were dead.
The frozen ground was hard to the juggler, and,
like the grasshopper of which Marie de France
tells us, the inclement season caused him to suffer
both cold and hunger. But as he was simple-
natured he bore his ills patiently.

He had never meditated on the origin of wealth,
nor upon the inequality of human conditions. He
believed firmly that if this life should prove hard,
the life to come could not fail to redress the
balance, and this hope upheld him. He did not re-
semble those thievish and miscreant Merry Andrews
who sell their souls to the devil. He never blas-
phemed God's name ; he lived uprightly, and
although he had no wife of his own, he did not

OUR LADY'S JUGGLER 85

covet his neighbour's, since woman is ever the
enemy of the strong man, as it appears by the
history of Samson recorded in the Scriptures.

In truth, his was not a nature much disposed to
carnal delights, and it was a greater deprivation to
him to forsake the tankard than the Hebe who
bore it. For whilst not wanting in sobriety, he
was fond of a drink when the weather waxed hot.
He was a worthy man who feared God, and was
very devoted to the Blessed Virgin.

Never did he fail on entering a church to fall
upon his knees before the image of the Mother of
God, and offer up this prayer to her :

" Blessed Lady, keep watch over my life until it
shall please God that I die, and when I am dead,
ensure to me the possession of the joys of paradise."

II

OW on a certain evening after a
dreary wet day, as Barnaby pursued
his road, sad and bent, carrying under
his arm his balls and knives wrapped
up in his old carpet, on the watch for
some barn where, though he might not sup, he
might sleep, he perceived on the road, going in the
same direction as himself, a monk, whom he saluted
courteously. And as they walked at the same rate
they fell into conversation with one another.

" Fellow traveller," said the monk, " how comes
it about that you are clothed all in green ? Is it
perhaps in order to take the part of a jester in
some mystery play ? "

" Not at all, good father," replied Barnaby.
" Such as you see me, I am called Barnaby, and for
my calling 1 am a juggler. There would be no
pleasanter calling in the world if it would always
provide one with daily bread."

" Friend Barnaby," returned the monk, " be
careful what you say. There is no calling more
pleasant than the monastic life. Those who lead it

86

OUR LADY'S JUGGLER 87

are occupied with the praises of God, the Blessed
Virgin, and the saints ; and, indeed, the religious life
is one ceaseless hymn to the Lord."

Barnaby replied —

" Good father, I own that I spoke like an
ignorant man. Your calling cannot be in any
respect compared to mine, and although there may
be some merit in dancing with a penny balanced on
a stick on the tip of one's nose, it is not a merit
which comes within hail of your own. Gladly
would I, like you, good father, sing my office day
by day, and especially the office of the most Holy
Virgin, to whom I have vowed a singular devotion.
In order to embrace the monastic life I would
willingly abandon the art by which from Soissons
to Bcauvais I am well known in upwards of six
hundred towns and villages."

The monk was touched by the juggler's sim-
plicity, and as he was not lacking in discernment,
he at once recognized in Barnaby one of those
men of whom it is said in the Scriptures : Peace on
earth to men of good will. And for this reason
he replied —

" Friend Barnaby, come with me, and I will have
you admitted into the monastery of which I am
Prior. He who guided St. Mary of Egypt in the
desert set me upon your path to lead you into
the way of salvation."

88 MOTHER OF PEARL

It was in this manner, then, that Barnaby became
a monk. In the monastery into which he was re-
ceived the religious vied with one another in the
worship of the Blessed Virgin, and in her honour
each employed all the knowledge and all the skill
which God had given him.

The prior on his part wrote books dealing
according to the rules of scholarship with the
virtues of the Mother of God.

Brother Maurice, with a cleft hand copied out
these treatises upon sheets of vellum.

Brother Alexander adorned the leaves with
delicate miniature paintings. Here were displayed
the Queen of Heaven seated upon Solomon's throne,
and while four lions were on guard at her feet,
around the nimbus which encircled her head
hovered seven doves, which are the seven gifts of
the Holy Spirit, the gifts, namely, of Fear, Piety,
Knowledge, Strength, Counsel, Understanding,
and Wisdom. For her companions she had six
virgins with hair of gold, namely, Humility,
Prudence, Seclusion, Submission, Virginity, and
Obedience.

At her feet were two little naked figures, per-
fectly white, in an attitude of supplication. These
were souls imploring her all-powerful intercession
for their soul's health, and we may be sure not
imploring in vain.

OUR LADY'S JUGGLER 89

Upon another page facing this, Brother Alexander
represented Eve, so that the Fall and the Redemp-
tion could be perceived at one and the same time
— Eve the Wife abased, and Mary the Virgin
exalted.

Furthermore, to the marvel of the beholder,
this book contained presentments of the Well of
Living Waters, the Fountain, the Lily, the Moon,
the Sun, and the Garden Enclosed of which the
Song of Songs tells us, the Gate of Heaven and the
City of God, and all these things were symbols of
the Blessed Virgin.

Brother Marbode was likewise one of the most
loving children of Mary.

He spent all his days carving images in stone,
so that his beard, his eyebrows, and his hair were
white with dust, and his eyes continually swollen
and weeping ; but his strength and cheerfulness
were not diminished, although he was now well
gone in years, and it was clear that the Queen
of Paradise still cherished her servant in his old
age. Marbode represented her seated upon a
throne, her brow encircled with an orb - shaped
nimbus set with pearls. And he took care that
the folds of her dress should cover the feet of her,
concerning whom the prophet declared : My beloved
is as a garden enclosed.

Sometimes, too, he depicted her in the sem-

90 MOTHER OF PEARL

blance of a child full of grace, and appearing to
say, "Thou art my God, even from my mother's
womb."

In the priory, moreover, were poets who com-
posed hymns in Latin, both in prose and verse, in
honour of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and amongst
the company was even a brother from Picardy
who sang the miracles of Our Lady in rhymed verse
and in the vulgar tongue.

Ill

EING a witness of this emulation in
praise and the glorious harvest of
their labours, Barnaby mourned his
own ignorance and simplicity.

" Alas ! " he sighed, as he took
his solitary walk in the little shelterless garden of
the monastery, "wretched wight that I am, to be
unable, like my brothers, worthily to praise the
Holy Mother of God, to whom I have vowed
my whole heart's affection. Alas ! alas ! I am
but a rough man and unskilled in the arts, and I
can render you in service, blessed Lady, neither
edifying sermons, nor treatises set out in order
according to rule, nor ingenious paintings, nor
statues truthfully sculptured, nor verses whose
march is measured to the beat of feet. No gift
have I, alas ! "

After this fashion he groaned and gave himself
up to sorrow. But one evening, when the monks
were spending their hour of liberty in conversation,
he heard one of them tell the tale of a religious
man who could repeat nothing other than the Ave

91

92 MOTHER OF PEARL

Maria. This poor man was despised for his igno-
rance ; but after his death there issued forth from
his mouth five roses in honour of the five letters
of the name Mary (Marie), and thus his sanctity
was made manifest.

Whilst he listened to this narrative Barnaby
marvelled yet once again at the loving kindness of
the Virgin ; but the lesson of that blessed death
did not avail to console him, for his heart over-
flowed with zeal, and he longed to advance the
glory of his Lady, who is in heaven.

How to compass this he sought but could
find no way, and day by day he became the
more cast down, when one morning he awakened
filled full with joy, hastened to the chapel, and
remained there alone for more than an hour.
After dinner he returned to the chapel once
more.

And, starting from that moment, he repaired daily
to the chapel at such hours as it was deserted, and
spent within it a good part of the time which the
other monks devoted to the liberal and mechanical
arts. His sadness vanished, nor did he any longer
groan.

A demeanour so strange awakened the curiosity
of the monks.

These began to ask one another for what purpose

OUR LADY'S JUGGLER 93

Brother Barnaby could be indulging so persistently
in retreat.

The prior, whose duty it is to let nothing escape
him in the behaviour of his children in religion,
resolved to keep a watch over Barnaby during his
withdrawals to the chapel. One day, then, when he
was shut up there after his custom, the prior, accom-
panied by two of the older monks, went to discover
through the chinks in the door what was going on
within the chapel.

They saw Barnaby before the altar of the Blessed
Virgin, head downwards, with his feet in the air, and
he was juggling with six balls of copper and a
dozen knives. In honour of the Holy Mother of
God he was performing those feats, which afore-
time had won him most renown. Not recog-
nizing that the simple fellow was thus placing at
the service of the Blessed Virgin his knowledge
and skill, the two old monks exclaimed against the
sacrilege.

The prior was aware how stainless was Barnaby's
soul, but he concluded that he had been seized
with madness. They were all three preparing to
lead him swiftly from the chapel, when they saw
the Blessed Virgin descend the steps of the altar
and advance to wipe away with a fold of her azure
robe the sweat which was dropping from her
juggler's forehead.

TO MONSIEUR JEAN FRANCOIS BLADE,
OF AGEN,

THE "PIOUS CHRONICLER" WHO HAS COLLECTED THE
POPULAR TALES OF GASCONY

THE MASS OF SHADOWS

HIS tale the sacristan of the church
of St. Eulalie at Neuville d'Aumont
told me, as we sat under the arbour
of the White Horse, one fine summer
evening, drinking a bottle of old wine
to the health of the dead man, now very much at
his ease, whom that very morning her had borne to
the grave with full honours, beneath a pall powdered
with smart silver tears.

"My poor father, who is dead" (it is the sacristan
who is speaking), " was in his lifetime a gravedigger.
He was of an agreeable disposition, the result, no
doubt, of the calling he followed, for it has often
been pointed out that people who work in ceme-
teries are of a jovial turn. Death has no terrors for
them : they never give it a thought. I, for instance,
Monsieur, enter a cemetery at night as little per-
turbed as though it were the arbour of the White
Horse. And if by chance I meet with a ghost,
I don't disturb myself in the least about it, for I
reflect that he may just as likely have business of
his own to attend to as I. I know the habits of the
H 97

TO MONSIEUR JEAN FRANCOIS BLADE,
OF AGEN,

THE " PIOUS CHRONICLER " WHO HAS COLLECTED THE
POPULAR TALES OF GASCONY

THE MASS OF SHADOWS

HIS tale the sacristan of the church
of St. Eulalie at Neuville d'Aumont
told me, as we sat under the arbour
of the White Horse, one fine summer
evening, drinking a bottle of old wine
to the health of the dead man, now very much at
his ease, whom that very morning her had borne to
the grave with full honours, beneath a pall powdered
with smart silver tears.

" My poor father, who is dead " (it is the sacristan
who is speaking), " was in his lifetime a gravedigger.
He was of an agreeable disposition, the result, no
doubt, of the calling he followed, for it has often
been pointed out that people who work in ceme-
teries are of a jovial turn. Death has no terrors for
them : they never give it a thought. I, for instance,
Monsieur, enter a cemetery at night as little per-
turbed as though it were the arbour of the White
Horse. And if by chance I meet with a ghost,
I don't disturb myself in the least about it, for I
reflect that he may just as likely have business of
his own to attend to as I. I know the habits of the
H 97

98 MOTHER OF PEARL

dead, and I know their character. Indeed, so far as
that goes, I know things of which the priests them-
selves are ignorant. If I were to tell you all I have
seen you would be astounded. But a still tongue
makes a wise head, and my father, who, all the
same, delighted in spinning a yarn, did not disclose
a twentieth part of what he knew. To make up
for this he often repeated the same stories, and to
my knowledge he told the story of Catherine Fon-
taine at least a hundred times.

" Catherine Fontaine was an old maid whom he
well remembered having seen when he was a mere
child. I should not be surprised if there were still,
perhaps, three old fellows in the district who could
remember having heard folks speak of her, for she
was very well known and of excellent reputation,
although poor enough. She lived at the corner of
the Rue aux Nonnes, in the turret which is still to
be seen there, and which formed part of an old
half-ruined mansion looking on to the garden of
the Ursuline nuns. On that turret can still be
traced certain figures and half-obliterated inscrip-
tions. The late Cur6 of St. Eulalie, Monsieur
Levasseur, asserted that there are the words in
Latin, Love is stronger than death, * which is to be
understood,' so he would add, ' of divine love.'

" Catherine Fontaine lived by herself in this tiny
apartment. She was a lacemaker. You know, of

THE MASS OF SHADOWS 99

course, that the lace made in our part of the world
was formerly held in high esteem. No one knew
anything of her relatives or friends. It was re-
ported that when she was eighteen years of age she
had loved the young Chevalier d'Aumont-Clery, and
been secretly affianced to him. But decent folk
didn't believe a word of it, and said it was nothing
but a tale which had been concocted because
Catherine Fontaine's demeanour was that of a lady
rather than of a working woman, and because,
moreover, she possessed beneath her white locks
the remains of great beauty. Her expression was
sorrowful, and on one finger she wore one of those
rings fashioned by the goldsmith into the semblance
of two tiny hands clasped together. In former
days folks were accustomed to exchange such rings
at their betrothal ceremony. I am sure you know
the sort of thing I mean.

"Catherine Fontaine lived a saintly life. She
spent a great deal of time in the churches, and
every morning, whatever might be the weather,
she went to assist at the six o'clock Mass at St.
Eulalie.

" Now one December night, whilst she was abed
in her little chamber, she was awakened by the
sound of bells, and nothing doubting that they
were ringing for the first Mass, the pious woman
dressed herself and came downstairs and out into

ioo MOTHER OF PEARL

the street. The night was so obscure that not even
the walls of the houses were visible, and not a ray
of light shone from the murky sky. And such was
the silence amid this black darkness, that there
was not even the sound of a distant dog barking,
and a feeling of aloofness from every living creature
was perceptible. But Catherine Fontaine knew
well every single stone she stepped on, and as she
could have found her way to the church with her
eyes shut, she reached without difficulty the corner
of the Rue aux Nonnes and the Rue de la Paroisse,
where the timbered house stands with the tree of
Jesse carved on one of its massive beams. When
she reached this spot she perceived that the church
doors were open, and that a great light was stream-
ing out from the wax tapers. She resumed her
journey, and when she had passed through the
porch she found herself in the midst of a vast con-
gregation which entirely filled the church. But
she did not recognize any of the worshippers, and
was surprised to observe that all these people were
dressed in velvets and brocades, with feathers in
their hats, and that they wore swords in the fashion
of days gone by. Here were gentlemen who carried
tall canes with gold knobs, and ladies with lace
caps fastened with coronet-shaped combs. Cheva-
liers of the Order of St. Louis extended their
hands to these ladies, who concealed behind their

THE MASS OF SHADOWS 101

fans painted faces, of which only the powdered
brow and the patch at the corner of the eye were
visible ! And all of them proceeded to take up
their places without the slightest sound, and as
they moved neither the sound of their footsteps on
the pavement nor the rustle of their garments could
be heard. The lower places were filled with a
crowd of young artisans in brown jackets, dimity
breeches, and blue stockings, with their arms round
the waists of very pretty blushing girls who lowered
their eyes. Near the holy water stoups peasant
women, in scarlet petticoats and laced bodices, sat
upon the ground as immovable as domestic animals,
whilst young lads, standing up behind them, stared
out from wide-open eyes and twirled their hats
round and round on their fingers, and all these
silent countenances seemed centred irremovably on
one and the same thought, at once sweet and
sorrowful. On her knees, in her accustomed place,
Catherine Fontaine saw the priest advance towards
the altar, preceded by two servers. She recognized
neither priest nor clerks. The Mass began. It was
a silent Mass, during which neither the sound of
the moving lips nor the tinkle of the bell, vainly
swung to and fro, was audible. Catherine Fontaine
felt that she was under the observation and the
influence also of her mysterious neighbour, and
when, scarcely turning her head, she stole a glance

102 MOTHER OF PEARL

at him, she recognized the young Chevalier
d'Aumont-C16ry who had once loved her, and who
had been dead for five-and-forty years. She recog-
nized him by a small mark which he had over the
left ear, and, above all, by the shadow which his
long black eyelashes cast upon his cheeks. He
was dressed in his hunting clothes, scarlet with gold
lace, the very clothes he wore that day when he met
her in St. Leonard's Wood, begged her for a drink,
and stole a kiss. He had preserved his youth and
his good looks. When he smiled he still displayed
magnificent teeth. Catherine said to him in an
undertone —

" * Monseigneur, you who were my friend, and to
whom in days gone by I gave all that a girl holds
most dear, may God keep you in His grace ! O,
that he would at length inspire me with regret for
the sin I committed in yielding to you ; for it is a
fact that, though my hair is white and I approach
my end, I have not yet repented of having loved
you. But, dear dead friend and noble seigneur,
tell me, who are these folk, habited after the antique
fashion, who are here assisting at this silent
Mass ? '

" The Chevalier d'Aumont-Clery replied in a
voice feebler than a breath, but none the less crystal
clear —

" ' Catherine, these men and women are souls

THE MASS OF SHADOWS 103

from purgatory who have grieved God by sinning
as we ourselves sinned through love of the crea-
ture, but who are not on that account cast off by
God, inasmuch as their sin, like ours, was not
deliberate.

" * Whilst, separated from those they loved
upon earth, they are purified in the cleansing fires
of purgatory, they suffer the pangs of absence,
which is for them the most cruel of tortures.
They are so unhappy that an angel from heaven
takes pity upon their love-torment. By the per-
mission of the Most High, for one hour in the
night, he reunites each year lover to loved in their
parish church, where they are permitted to assist at
the Mass of Shadows, hand clasped in hand. These
are the facts. If it has been granted to me to see
thee here before thy death, Catherine, it is a boon
which has been bestowed by God's special permis-
sion.'

" And Catherine Fontaine answered him —

" * I would die gladly enough, dear, dead lord, if
I might recover the beauty that was mine when I
gave you to drink in the forest.'

" Whilst they conversed thus under their breath,
a very old canon was taking the collection and
proffering to the worshippers a great copper dish,
wherein they let fall, each in his turn, ancient coins
which have long since ceased to pass current : icus

io4 MOTHER OF PEARL

of six livres, florins, ducats and ducatoons, jaco-
buses and rose-nobles, and the pieces fell silently
into the dish. When at length it was placed before
the Chevalier, he dropped into it a louis which
made no more sound than had the other pieces of
gold and silver.

"Then the old canon stopped before Catherine
Fontaine, who fumbled in her pocket without being
able to find a farthing. Then, being unwilling to
allow the dish to pass without an offering from her-
self, she slipped from her finger the ring which the
Chevalier had given her the day before his death,
and cast it into the copper bowl. As the golden
ring fell, a sound like the heavy clang of a bell rang
out, and on the stroke of this reverberation the
Chevalier, the canon, the celebrant, the servers,
the ladies and their cavaliers, the whole assembly
vanished utterly ; the candles guttered out, and
Catherine Fontaine was left alone in the dark-
ness."

Having concluded his narrative after this fashion,
the sacristan drank a long draught of wine, remained
pensive a moment, and then resumed his talk in
these words : —

" I have told you this tale exactly as my father
has told it to me over and over again, and I believe

THE MASS OF SHADOWS 105

that it is authentic, because it agrees in all respects
with what I have myself observed of the manners
and customs peculiar to those who have passed
away. I have associated a good deal with the
dead ever since my childhood, and I know that
they are accustomed to return to what they have
loved.

" It is on this account that the miserly dead
wander at night in the neighbourhood of the trea-
sures they concealed during their lifetime. They
keep a strict watch over their gold ; but the trouble
they give themselves, far from being of service to
them, turns to their disadvantage ; and it is not at
all a rare thing to come upon money buried in the
ground on digging in a place haunted by a ghost.
In the same way deceased husbands come by night
to harass their wives who have made a second
matrimonial venture, and I could easily name
several who have kept a better watch over their
wives since death than ever they did while living.

" That sort of thing is blameworthy, for in all
fairness the dead have no business to stir up
jealousies. Still I do but tell you what I have
observed myself. It is a matter to take into account
if one marries a widow. Besides, the tale I have
told you is vouched for in the manner following :

"The morning after that extraordinary night
Catherine Fontaine was discovered dead in her

io6 MOTHER OF PEARL

chamber. And the beadle attached to St. Eulalie
found in the copper bowl used for the collection a
gold ring with two clasped hands. Besides, I'm not
the kind of man to make jokes. Suppose we order
another bottle of wine ? . ."

LESLIE WOOD

TO THE COMTESSE DE MARTEL-JANVILLE

LESLIE WOOD

HERE was music and private theatri-
cals at Madame N 's reception in

the Boulevard Malesherbes.

Whilst on the outskirts of a display
of bare shoulders the younger men at
the doorway were suffocating in the stifling, scented
air, we older guests, not without grumbling, were
keeping ourselves cool in a little salon from which we
could see nothing, and to which the voice of Made-
moiselle Rejane only penetrated like the slightly
metallic sound of a dragon-fly's flight. From time to
time we could hear the laughter and applause burst
forth in the sweltering room, and we were disposed
to extend a mild tolerance to the entertainment we
did not share. We were exchanging fairly amus-
ing trivialities, when one of the company, a genial

deputy, Monsieur B , remarked —

" Did you know that Wood was here ? "
At this statement each in turn exclaimed—
" Wood ? Leslie Wood ? It's impossible. It is
ten years since he was seen in Paris. Nobody
knows what's become of him."

109

no MOTHER OF PEARL

" The story goes that he has established a black
republic on the shores of the Victoria Nyanza."

" What a tale ! You know, of course, that he
is fabulously wealthy, and that he is a past master
in achieving the impossible. Well, he is living in
Ceylon, in a fairy palace, in the midst of enchanted
gardens, where the bayaderes never cease dancing
night and day."

" How can any one believe such balderdash ?
The truth is, that Leslie Wood has gone off with
a Bible and a carbine to convert the Zulus."

Monsieur B interrupted in an undertone —

" There he is ; there, do you see ? "

And he drew our attention by a slight movement
of the head and eyes to a man leaning against the
doorway, dominating by his lofty stature the heads
of the crowd huddled in front of him. He seemed
engrossed in the performance.

That athletic carriage, the ruddy face with the
white whiskers, the penetrating eyes and calm gaze,
they could belong to no one else but Leslie Wood.

Recalling the inimitable letters which for ten
years he contributed to the World, I said to
Monsieur B

" That man is the foremost journalist of our
time."

" You may possibly be right," replied B .

" At any rate, I am ready to assert that for twenty

LESLIE WOOD in

years past no one has known Europe as thoroughly
as Leslie Wood."

Baron Mo'lse, who was following our talk, shook
his head.

" You don't know the real Wood. I know him
myself, though. He was before all things a financier.
He had a better grasp of the money market than
any one I know. What are you laughing at,
Princess ? "

Lolling expansively on the sofa, and in gloomy
depression at being unable to smoke a cigarette,
the Princess Zevorine had smiled.

" You neither of you understand Mr. Wood —
neither of you," she said. " He was always a
mystic and a lover, never anything else."

" 1 can't agree to that," replied Baron MoYse.
" But I should be very glad to know where this
devil of a fellow has been spending the best ten
years of his life."

" And at what period do you place those best ten
years of life ? "

" Between the fiftieth and sixtieth years ; a man's
position is made by then, and he has nothing to do
but enjoy his existence."

"Baron, you can question Wood himself. He
is coming towards us."

The applause, this time rising to a furious pitch
like the fall of a heavy body or the banging of

MOTHER OF PEARL

doors, announced the close of the performance.
The black-coated contingent leaving the doorways
clear overflowed into the smaller salony and as the
company made their way in couples in the direction
of the buffet, Leslie Wood approached us.

He shook hands with undemonstrative cordiality.

" An apparition ! an apparition ! " exclaimed
Baron Mo'fse.

"Oh ! " rejoined Wood, "one can't reappear from
any very remote quarter. The world is small."

" Do you know what the Princess is saying about
you, my dear Wood ? She declares that you are
nothing but a mystic. Now is that true ?"

" Well it depends on what you mean by mystic."

" The word is self-explanatory. A mystic is one
who is preoccupied with the concerns of the next
world. Now you are too well acquainted with the
affairs of this world to trouble yourself about the
next."

At these words Wood slightly contracted his
eyebrows.

"You are quite in the wrong, Mofse. The affairs
of the other world arc of far, far greater import-
ance than those of the world we live in, MoYse."

" What a man he is, this good Wood of ours ! "
exclaimed the Baron, with a sneer. " He is
positively witty ! "

The Princess replied very seriously —

LESLIE WOOD 113

" Mr. Wood, tell me that you are not witty. I
thoroughly detest witty men."

Upon this she rose, and said —

" Mr. Wood, will you take me to the buffet ? "

An hour later, when Monsieur G was

holding both men and women spell-bound with his
songs, I came across Leslie Wood and the Princess
Zevorine again, alone in front of the deserted
buffet.

The Princess was speaking with almost vehement
enthusiasm of Count Tolstoi, whose friend she was.
She described this great man who had descended
to the lowliest life, donning the dress, and with it
the spirit, of the moujik, and using the hands
which had indited literary masterpieces in the
manufacture of shoes for the poor.

To my great surprise, Wood was expressing
approbation of a kind of life so completely opposed
to common sense. In his slightly panting voice, to
which the beginnings of asthma had given a singular
sweetness, he said —

" Yes, Tolstoi is right. The whole of philosophy
is contained in that phrase : * May the will of God
be done!' He has realized that all the woes of
humanity are the outcome of the exercise of human
will as distinct from the will divine. My only fear
is that he may impair so noble a doctrine by fan-
tastic and extravagant additions."
i

n4 MOTHER OF PEARL

" Oh ! " returned the Princess in a subdued
voice, and hesitating a little, " the Count's teaching
is only extravagant upon one point ; that is, in incul-
cating the extension of the rights and duties of
husbands to an extremely advanced period of their
lives, and imposing on the saints of these latter days
the fruitful old age of the patriarchs."

Wood, himself elderly, replied with a restrained
exaltation —

"And that again is excellent, very saintly even.
Physical and natural love is becoming to all
God's creatures, and so long as it does not involve
either dissejision or restlessness, it maintains that
divine simplicity, that saintly fleshliness without
which there is no salvation. Asceticism is nothing
but pride and rebellion. We must always bear in
mind the example of that holy man Boaz, and let
us remember that the Bible calls love the bread of
old age."

Then, all of a sudden, transported, illuminated,
transfigured, ecstatic, and invoking with eyes and
arms and his whole soul some invisible presence, he
murmured —

" Annie ! Annie ! Annie, my best beloved, it is
true, is it not, that our Lord desires his saints,
whilst they are men and women, to love one
another humbly, even as the beasts of the field ? "

Upon this he fell exhausted into an arm-chair.

LESLIE WOOD 115

A terrific inhalation shook his broad chest, and in
this condition his appearance was fuller of vitality
than ever, like those machines that appear more
formidable when they are out of gear. The Prin-
cess ZeVorine, without any show of astonishment,
wiped his forehead with her handkerchief and gave
him a glass of water, which he drank.

For my part I was dumfounded. In this
clairvoyant I was unable to recognize the man who
in his study, littered with blue-books, had so many
times conversed with me with the utmost clear-
headedness upon Oriental affairs, the Treaty of
Frankfort, and critical situations on the money
market. As I allowed the Princess to observe my
uneasiness, she said, with a shrug of the shoulders —

" It is easy to see you are French ! You
look upon every one as a madman who does not
think exactly what you think yourself. You need
not be uneasy ; our friend Mr. Wood is level-
headed enough, perfectly level-headed. Let us go
and listen to G .

When I had conducted the Princess to the prin-
cipal sa/on, I prepared to leave. In the ante-chamber
1 found Wood putting on his overcoat. He did
not appear to feel any ill effects from his attack.

" My dear fellow," he said, " I think we are
neighbours. I suppose you are still living on the
Quai Malaquais, and I have taken up my quarters

n6 MOTHER OF PEARL

in a hotel in the Rue des Saints Peres. In dry
weather like this it is a pleasure to go on foot. If
you are willing we will stroll along together and
chat."

I agreed readily. On the doorstep he offered
me a cigar, and held out a pocket electric torch
for me to light it by.

" 1 find it very convenient," he said, and pro-
ceeded to explain the principle of it very lucidly.

I recognized the Wood of old times again. We
moved on perhaps a hundred paces along the street
chatting on indifferent subjects. Then suddenly
my companion put his hand quietly on my
shoulder.

"My dear friend," he began, " some of the
things I said this evening cannot have failed to
surprise you. You would probably like me to
explain them."

" I was intensely interested, my dear Wood,
pray do."

" I will do so willingly. I have the greatest
admiration of your character. We may not regard
life from the same point of view. But you are
not one of those who repel an idea because it is
new, and that is a disposition sufficiently rare, in
France especially."

" I fancy, however, my dear Wood, that for
liberty of thought "

LESLIE WOOD 117

" Oh ! no, you are not, like the English, a race
of theologians. But enough of that. I want to
tell you in as few words as possible the history of
my convictions. When you knew me fifteen years
ago 1 was the correspondent of the London World.
With us journalism is a more lucrative profession,
and is held in higher esteem than with you. My
appointment was a good one, and I fancy I reaped
the greatest possible advantages from it. I am
familiar with business transactions, and I carried
through some very profitable ones, and in a few
years I achieved two very desirable things : in-
fluence and fortune. You are aware that I am a
practical man.

" I have never worked without a goal in view.
And, above all things, I aimed at attaining the
supreme goal of life. Fairly exhaustive theological
studies undertaken in my youth had convinced me
that that goal lay outside the sphere of this terres-
trial life. But I was yet in doubt as to the practical
means of attaining it. As a result, I suffered
cruelly. Uncertainty is absolutely insupportable
to a man of my temperament.

"In this state of mind I turned my attention
seriously to the psychical researches of Sir William
Crookes, one of the most distinguished members
of our Royal Society. I knew him personally,
and needed no assurance that he was both a man

u8 MOTHER OF PEARL

of learning and a gentleman. He was at that time
giving his attention to the case of a young woman
endowed with psychic powers of an altogether un-
common nature, and, like Saul of old, he was
fortunate enough to evoke the presence of an in-
disputable disembodied spirit.

"A charming woman, who had passed through
the experience of earthly life and was now living
the life beyond the tomb, lent herself to the experi-
ments of the eminent spiritualist, and submitted
to every test he could exact from her within the
limits of decorum. I considered that investigations
such as this, bearing on the point at which terres-
trial existence borders on extra-terrestrial existence,
would lead me, if I followed them step by step, to
the discovery of that which it is above all necessary
to know, that is to say, the true aim of life.
But it was not long before I was disappointed
in my hopes. The researches of my respected
friend, although conducted with a precision which
left nothing to be desired, did not result in a
theological and moral conviction sufficiently un-
equivocal.

" Moreover, Sir William was suddenly deprived
of the co-operation of the incomparable dead lady
who had so graciously attended several of his
spiritualistic seances.

" Discouraged by the incredulity of the public,

LESLIE WOOD 119

and irritated by the sallies of his colleagues, he
ceased to give any information relative to his
psychic experiences. I communicated my discom-
fiture to the Reverend Mr. B , with whom I had

been on friendly terms from the time of his return
from South Africa, where he had laboured as an
evangelist in a devoted and systematic fashion truly
worthy of old England.

" Mr. B is, of all men, the one who has at

all times exercised the most powerful and decisive
influence over me."

" He is very intellectual, then ? " I asked.

" His knowledge of doctrine is profound," re-
plied Wood. "But better than all else he has a
strong character, and you are aware, my dear fellow,
that it is by force of character that men are swayed.
My mischances occasioned no surprise to him ; he
attributed them to my lack of method, and, above
all, to the pitiable moral infirmity I had shown on
this occasion.

" ' Scientific experiments,' he declared, ' can never
lead to discoveries in any other domain than that
of science. How is it you did not understand
this ? Leslie Wood, you have been strangely
heedless and frivolous. The Apostle Paul has
told us that the Spirit searcheth all things. If we
would discover spiritual truths we must set our
feet on the spiritual path.'

120 MOTHER OF PEARL

" These words produced a profound impression
on me.

" * How then,' I asked, ' shall I enter on the
spiritual path ? '

" * Poverty and simplicity must be your guides ! '

Mr. B replied. * Sell your goods and give

the purchase money to the poor. You are re-
nowned. Conceal yourself. Pray, and devote
yourself to works of charity. Put on a spirit
of simplicity and a pure soul and you will attain
truth.'

" I resolved to follow out these precepts to the
letter. I sent in my resignation as correspondent
to the World. I realized my investments, which
were in great part in commercial enterprises, and,
fearing to repeat the sin of Ananias and Sapphira,
I conducted this delicate operation in such a way
as not to risk the loss of a penny of the capital
which was no longer my own. Baron Mo'fse, who
kept an eye on my negotiations, conceived an
almost religious reverence for my financial genius.

By direction of Mr. B , I handed over to the

treasurer of the Evangelical Society the sums I had
realized, and when I expressed to that eminent
theologian my delight at being poor —

" * Have a care,' said he, * that in your poverty
you do not indulge in exaltation at your prowess.
It will serve you but ill to strip yourself outwardly

LESLIE WOOD 121

if within your own breast you cherish a golden
idol. Be humble ! ' "

Leslie Wood had reached this point in his narra-
tive when we arrived at the Pont Royal. The
Seine, upon whose surface the lights threw flickering
reflections, flowed beneath the arches with a dull
moan.

"I shall have to cut my story short," Wood
began once more. " Each episode of my new life

would occupy a whole night to recount. Mr. B ,

to whom I was as obedient as a child, sent me to
the Basutos, commissioned to fight against the slave
trade. There I lived under a tent alone with that
hardy bedfellow whose name is danger, and through
fever and drought became aware of the presence of
God.

"At the end of five years Mr. B recalled

me to England. On the steamer I met a young
girl. What a haunting face she had ! She was a
vision a thousand times more radiant than the
phantom presence which appeared to Sir William
Crookes !

" She was the orphan daughter of a colonel in
the Indian army and she was poor. She had no
particular beauty of features. Her pale complexion
and emaciated face indicated suffering ; but her
eyes expressed all that one can imagine of heaven ;
her body seemed to glow gently with an inward

122 MOTHER OF PEARL

light. How I loved her ! At sight of her
fathomed the hidden meaning of all creation !
That simple young girl with one glance revealed
to me the secret of the harmony of the spheres !

"Ah ! she was simple, very simple, my monitress,
my well-loved lady, sweet Annie Fraser ! In her
translucent soul I could read the sympathy she felt
for me. One night, one serene night, when we were
alone together on the deck of the ship in the
presence of the seraphic company of the stars,
which throbbed in chorus in the sky, I took her
hand and said —

"' Annie Fraser, I love you. I believe that it
would be good for us both for you to become my
wife, but I am debarred from planning my own
future in order that God may dispose of it as He
sees fit. May it be His will to unite us ! I
have surrendered my own will into the hands of

Mr. B . When we reach England we will go

together in search of him ; will you, Annie Fraser ?
And if he gives his sanction we will marry.'

" She gave her consent. For the remainder of
the voyage we read the Bible together.

" Immediately on our arrival in London I

accompanied my fellow passenger to Mr. B 's,

and told him what the love of this young girl
meant to me, and with what clear insight it in-
spired me.

LESLIE WOOD 123

" Mr. B gazed for a long time on her with

kindliness.

" * You may marry,' he said at length. * The
Apostle Paul has declared that the husband is
sanctified by the wife, and the wife by the husband.
But let your union resemble those held in honour
amongst Christians in the primitive Church ! Let
it remain purely spiritual, and see that the angel's
sword lies between you in your bed. Go, now,
and remain humble and secluded, and let not the
world hear your name.'

" I married Annie Eraser, and I need scarcely
tell you that we complied rigidly with the condition

imposed on us by Mr. B . For four years I

delighted in that brotherly and sisterly union.

"By grace of simple little Annie Eraser I
advanced in the knowledge of God. There was
nothing now that could cause us suffering.

" Annie was ill, and her strength declined, and
we repeated joyfully in union, * May the will of
God be done on earth as it is in heaven ! *

"After four years of this life together, there

came a day, a Christmas day, when Mr. B

summoned me to him.

" * Leslie Wood,' he said, * I have put you to
the proof for your soul's sake. But it would be
to fall into papistical error to believe that the
union of His creatures after the flesh is dis-

i24 MOTHER OF PEARL

pleasing to God. Twice He blessed both animals
and mankind in pairs, in the earthly Paradise, and
in the ark of Noah. Go, and live henceforth with
your wife, Annie Fraser, as a husband with his
wife.'

"When I arrived home, Annie, my well-loved
Annie, was dead. . . .

" I own my weakness. It was with my lips and
not with my heart that I pronounced the words,
' O God, Thy will be done ! * and thinking upon

Mr. B 's tardy removal of the restrictions

upon our love, I felt my mouth full of bitterness,
and as it were ashes in my heart.

" So it was with a forlorn soul that I knelt down
at the foot of the bed where, beneath a cross or
roses, silent and white and with the faint violets
of death on her cheeks, my Annie slept her last
sleep.

" O thou of little faith ! thou didst bid her
adieu and remain a whole week plunged in barren
sorrow that approached despair. How much
rather shouldst thou, on the contrary, have re-
joiced, both in body and soul ! . . .

" On the night of the eighth day, as I was weep-
ing, my forehead bowed upon the cold and empty
bed, I had a sudden conviction that the beloved
was near me in my chamber.

" Nor was I deceived. When I raised my head

LESLIE WOOD 125

I saw Annie, smiling and radiant, holding out her
arms to me. But how find words for what re-
mains to tell ? How express the ineffable ? And
is it permissible to reveal such mysteries of love ?

"Clearly when Mr. B said to me, 'Live

with Annie as a husband with his wife ! ' he knew
that love is stronger than death.

" Learn, then, my friend, that from that hour of
forgiveness and joy my Annie has returned nightly
to my side distilling celestial odours."

He spoke with appalling exaltation.

We had slackened our pace. He stopped in
front of a hotel of Moorish exterior.

" This is where I live," he said. " Do you see
that window on the second floor with the light in
it ? She is waiting for me."

He left me abruptly.

Eight days later I learned from the newspapers
of the sudden death of Leslie Wood, former corre-
spondent of the World.

GESTAS

TO CHARLES MAURRAS

GESTAS

" ' Gestas,' dixt li Signer, ' entrez en Paradis.' "
"Gestas, dans nos anciens myst^res, c'est le nom du larron
crucifie a la droite de Jesus-Christ " ( Augustin Thierry, la Ridemp-
tion de Larmor).1

OLKS say that we have amongst us
at this very day a sad rogue named
Gestas, who writes the sweetest songs
in the world. It was written on his
flat-featured face that he would be a
sinner after the flesh, and towards evening evil
exultation shines in his green eyes. He is no
longer young. The protuberances on his skull have
taken on the lustre of copper ; the long hair falling
about his neck has taken a greenish tinge. Never-
theless he is ingenuous, and has kept fast hold on
the naive faith of his childhood. When he is not
in hospital he occupies a little room in some squalid
hotel between the Pantheon and the Jardin dcs

1 " ' Gestas,' said the Lord, « enter into Paradise.' "
" Gestas, in our ancient mystery plays, was the name of the
thief who was crucified on the right hand of Jesus Christ"
(Augustin Thierry, The Redemption of Larmor).
K 129

130 MOTHER OF PEARL

Plantes. There, in the old impoverished quarter,
every stone is familiar with his tread, the gloomy
byways are tolerant of him, and one of these
narrow lanes is entirely after his own heart ; for,
lined though it is with dram shops and boosing kens,
it boasts on the corner of one of the houses an image
of the Virgin in a blue niche behind bars. Of an
evening he progresses from caf£ to caf£, and at
station after station, with pious orderliness, he takes
his beer or his spirits : the exacting duties of the
devotee of debauchery call for method and regu-
larity. The night is far gone when, without know-
ing how, he once more reaches his den, and by a
daily miracle discovers the sacking bed, upon which
he falls fully dressed. There with clenched fists
he sleeps the sleep of the vagabond and the child.
But that sleep is brief.

As soon as dawn casts its pale radiance upon the
window, and between the curtains darts its lumi-
nous shafts into the attic, Gestas opens his eyes,
rises, shakes himself like an ownerless dog awakened
by a kick, hurries down the long, spiral staircase,
and once more sets his eyes delightedly on the
street, the kind street which is so indulgent to the
vices of the lowly and the poor. His eyelids wink
at the clear light of the early morning ; the nos-
trils, which recall Silenus, inhale the clean air.
Vigorous and upright, one leg stiffened by rheuma-

GESTAS 131

tism of long standing, he goes on his way leaning
on his dog-wood stick, the ferrule of which he has
worn out with twenty years of wandering. But in
his nocturnal adventures he has never lost either
his pipe or his stick. And at the beginning of the
day his appearance is that of a man perfectly simple
and perfectly happy. Which is what he actually is.
His greatest joy in life, which he buys at the
sacrifice of sleep, is to go from bar to bar in the
morning drinking white wine with the workmen.
It is an innocent sort of tippling : the trans-
parent wine, in the pale light of early morning,
amongst the white blouses of the masons ; there
you have a symphony in whites which enchants
this soul, of which vice has not yet subdued the
candour.

Now one spring morning when he had sauntered
in this fashion from his lodging as far as The Little
Moor, Gestas had the satisfaction of seeing the door,
over which appeared a Saracen's head in cast iron,
gay with paint, thrown open as he came up, and so he
reached the tin counter in the company of friends with
whom he had no acquaintance : a gang of workmen
from La Creuse, who clinked their glasses, talked
of their own part of the country, and indulged in
boasting after the manner of the twelve peers of
Charlemagne. They drank a glass and cracked a
crust ; when one of them thought of a good thing

132 MOTHER OF PEARL

he laughed very loudly at it, and so that his com-
rades might understand it the better gave them
a good thump or two on the back with his fist.
The older men, however, dispatched their potations
slowly and silently. When these had all departed
to their work, Gestas, the last left, quitted The Little
Moor and made his way to The Juicy Quince^ with
the lance-headed railings of which he was familiar.
Here, again, in excellent company, he had a drink,
and even offered a glass to two mistrustful but
mild guardians of the peace. After this he visited
a third bar, the ancient wrought-iron sign of which
represents two little men staggering under an
enormous bunch of grapes, and there he was served
by the lovely Madame Trubert, famous all the
quarter through for her prudence, her strength, and
her jollity. Then as he neared the fortifications
he had yet another drink at the distillery where,
in the shadow, the gleaming copper taps of the
barrels attract the eye ; and still another at the
general shop where the green shutters were still fast
closed between the two boxes of laurels ; after which
he returned to the most populous districts and
ordered 'vermouth and the brandy known as marc in
various cafes. Eight o'clock struck. He walked
very erect, with a steady, rigid, solemn gait ; he was
astonished when women, running to buy provisions,
with bare head and their hair twisted in a knot low

GESTAS 133

on the neck, ran against him with their heavy
baskets, or when he came into collision with some
small girl grasping an enormous loaf in her arms.
Still, at times, if he crossed the road the milkman's
cart, with its clinking, rattling tin cans, would pull
up so close to him that he could feel the horse's
warm breath on his cheek. But he continued his
way unhasting and careless of the imprecations of
the rustic milk-vendor. His gait, secure of sup-
port from his dog-wood stick, was calm and haughty.
But internally the old man was staggering. Noth-
ing was left of his early morning gaiety. The
lark, whose joyous trills had thrilled through him
with his earliest sips of the pale-hued wine, had
sped away at a single flight, and now his soul was a
murky rookery, where crows croaked hoarsely upon
inky trees. He was mortally sad. A great dis-
gust of himself welled up in his heart. The voice
of his repentance, his shame, cried out in him :
" Hog, hog ! What a hog you are ! " And he
marvelled at that clear, angry voice, that superb
angel's voice, which spoke mysteriously within
himself, repeating : " Hog ! hog ! What a hog
you are ! " A yearning desire for innocence and
purity woke in him. He wept ; great tears fell
down on his goat-like beard. He wept over him-
self. Obedient to the words of his Master, who
said, " Weep for yourselves and for your children,

134 MOTHER OF PEARL

O daughters of Jerusalem," he shed the bitter
dew from his downcast eyes upon the body he had
delivered up to the seven deadly sins, and upon
the obscene fancies born of his drunkenness. The
faith of his childhood revived in him, and spread
out fresh vigorous tendrils. From his lips pathetic
prayers flowed forth. He said under his breath :
"O God, grant me to become once more even as
the little child which once was I ! " At the moment
he offered up this simple petition he realized that
he was standing under a church porch.

It was an old church, once white and comely
beneath its lacework of stone, which time and the
hand of man had marred. Now it had become as
black as the Shulamite, and its beauty could only
appeal to the hearts of poets ; it was a church
"little and poor and old," like the mother of
Fran9ois Villon, who perchance in her day came to
kneel in its precincts, and saw on the walls, nowa-
days whitewashed, that painted paradise, the harps
of which she believed she could hear, and that
inferno where the damned suffered fiery torment,
which caused the worthy soul to be much afraid.
Gestas entered into the House of God. He saw
no one within, not even any one to offer him holy
water, not even a poor woman like the mother 6f
Fran£ois Villon. Ranged in seemly order in the
nave, a congregation of chairs alone bore witness to

GESTAS 135

the faith of the parishioners, and seemed to sustain
public worship.

In the cool, moist shade afforded by the vaulting
Gestas turned to his right towards the aisle where,
close to the porch, before a statue of the Virgin,
a pyramidal frame of iron displayed its pointed
teeth, on which, however, not a single taper now
burned. Then as he gazed on the image, white,
pink, and blue in colour, smiling from the midst
of little gold and silver hearts hung up as votive
offerings, he bent his stiff old legs, wept tears like
St. Peter, and sobbed out tender, disconnected
words : " Holy Virgin, Mother, Mary, Mary, your
child, your child, Mother ! " But very speedily
he rose up again, took several rapid steps, and
stopped in front of a confessional. Framed of oak,
darkened by the passage of time, oiled as are the
beams of an olive press, this confessional had the
irreproachable, homely, intimate appearance of an
old linen cupboard. On its panels religious symbols
carved in shell-like lozenges and rusticated work
called up the memory of the townswomen of the
olden time, who had come hither to bow their caps
with lofty erections of lace and lave their house-
wifely souls in this type of the cleansing piscina.
Where they had set their knees Gestas set his, and
with lips close up to the wooden grating called in
a hushed voice: "Father! father!" As no one

136 MOTHER OF PEARL

answered his call he knocked very gently with his
finger on the wicket.

"Father! father!"

He wiped his eyes so as to see better through
the holes in the grating, and thought he could
make out through the dimness the white surplice
of a priest.

He repeated —

" Father ! father ! pray listen to me. I am in
need of confession, I must cleanse my soul ; it is
black and dirty ; it disgusts me ; it turns my
stomach. Quick, father, the bath of repentance,
the bath of pardon, the bath of Jesus. At the
thought of my impurities my heart comes into my
mouth, and I am ready to spew with disgust at
my uncleanness. The bath, the bath of cleansing!"

Then he waited. Now fancying he perceived
a hand, which made a sign to him from the depths
of the confessional, now failing to discover in the
alcove anything more than an empty seat, a long
time passed. He remained motionless, his knees
glued to the wooden step, his gaze intent on the
wicket, whence he awaited the outpouring of
pardon, peace, refreshment, health, innocence, re-
conciliation with God and himself, heavenly joy,
submission to the divine love, the sovereign good.
At intervals he murmured tender supplications —

" Monsieur le cure, father, monsieur le cure !

GESTAS 137

I thirst ! give me to drink, give me that which is
yours to give, the water of innocence, a white robe,
and wings for my poor soul. Give me penitence
and pardon ! "

Receiving no reply, he knocked still harder at
the grating, and said aloud —

" Confession, I beg of you ! "

At last he lost patience, and rising, showered
heavy blows with his dog-wood stick on the walls
of the confessional, shouting —

" Ho, there, monsieur le cure ! Ho, there,
monsieur le vicaire 1 "

And in proportion as he raised his voice he
knocked more loudly. The blows fell furiously
on the confessional, causing clouds of dust to
arise from it, and only evoking in reply to his
violence the vibration of its worm-eaten old
planks.

The verger, who was sweeping out the sacristy,
ran forward with his sleeves turned up on hearing
the noise. When he saw the man with the stick he
stopped short for a moment, and then advanced
towards him with the cautious reserve common to
the officials who have grown white in the service
of this lowliest of police. Arrived within earshot
he demanded —

" What is it you want ? "

" I want to confess."

138 MOTHER OF PEARL

"Folks don't come to confess at an hour like
this."

" I want to confess."

" Be off with you ! "

" I want to see the cure."

" For what purpose ? "

"To make my confession."

"The cure can't be seen just now."

" The senior vicaire, then."

" Nor he either. Now off you go."

"The second vicaire, the third vicaire, the fourth
vicaire, the youngest vicaire."

"Be off with you."

"Ah, then! would you let me die unshriven?
It's worse than it was in '93, it seems ! . . . Any
little vicaire. How will it hurt you if I make my
confession to some little vicaire not any taller than
my arm ? Take word to some priest that he must
come to hear my confession. I'll undertake to dis-
close to him a batch of sins rarer, more extraordi-
nary, more interesting, you may take my word for
it, than all those his chattering women penitents
can trot out before him. You can tell him that he
is wanted for a really fine confession."

" Get away now ! "

"But won't you understand, you old Barabbas,
you ? I tell you that I wish to reconcile myself
with the good God — by God, I do 1 "

GESTAS 139

Although he did not rejoice in the majestic stat-
ure of the verger of a rich parish, this official staff-
bearer was vigorous enough. He took our poor
Gestas by the shoulders and hurled him outside
the doors.

Gestas, once in the street, had only one idea in
his brain, which was to get back into the church by
one of the side doors, so as, if possible, to steal a
march on the verger from behind, and perhaps lay
hands on some underling vicaire who would con-
sent to hear his confession.

Unhappily for the success of this manoeuvre, the
church was surrounded on all sides by old houses,
and Gestas was soon hopelessly entangled, without
hope of delivery, in an inextricable maze of streets,
lanes, courts, and alleys.

Amongst them, however, he discovered a wine
merchant's, and there the poor penitent tried to find
consolation in absinthe. He managed to do so.
But a fresh fit of repentance soon overtook him.
And it is this which supports his friends in the
hope that he will win salvation. He has faith —
simple, firm, childlike faith. It is works alone
which he is lacking in. Nevertheless there is no
need to despair of him, since he himself never
despairs.

Without entering on the difficulties as to pre-
destination— and they are not inconsiderable — nor

1 40 MOTHER OF PEARL

weighing the opinions expressed on this subject by
St. Augustine, Gottschalk, the Albigenses, the Wyc-
liffites, the Hussites, Luther, Calvin, Jansenius,
and the great Arnaud, one may venture to believe
that Gestas is predestined to eternal felicity.

"Gestas," said the Lord, "enter into Paradise."

THE MANUSCRIPT OF A VILLAGE
DOCTOR

TO MARCEL SCHWOB

OCTOR H , who recently died at

Scrvigny (Aisne), where he had prac-
tised medicine for more than forty
years, left behind him a journal never
intended for the public eye. I should
not feel justified in publishing the manuscript
in extensOy nor even in printing fragments of
any considerable length, although, like Monsieur
Taine, there is a large number of persons nowa-
days of the opinion that it is above all things
desirable to print and circulate what was never
planned for publication. Whatever these worthy
folk may say, the fact that a writer is an amateur
does not afford any guarantee that what he has to
say will be interesting. The memoirs of Doctor

H would be wearisome from their mere

monotonously moral note. And yet the man who
wrote them, in his lowly environment, possessed
an intellect quite out of the ordinary. This village
doctor was philosopher as well as physician. Per-
haps the closing pages of his journal might be

i44 MOTHER OF PEARL

perused without any exceptional distaste. I venture
to transcribe them here : —

Extract from the Journal of the late Doctor H ,

Physician at Servigny (Aisne).

"It is an axiom of philosophy that nothing in
this world is either altogether bad or altogether
good. Pity, the tenderest, the most natural, the
most useful of the virtues, is not at all times in
place either with the soldier or the priest ; both
with priest and soldier there are occasions when
it must be held in restraint — when confronted by
the enemy, for instance. Officers do not make a
practice of recommending it on the eve of battle,
and in some old book I have read that Monsieur
Nicole held it in distrust as the motive principle
of concupiscence. There is nothing of the priest
about me, and still less of the soldier. I am a
doctor, and amongst the most insignificant of that
profession, a country doctor. I have practised
my art for long years and in obscurity, and I would
assert that if pity alone can be a worthy stimulus
to the adoption of our profession, we must lay it
aside finally when we encounter those miseries
which it has inspired us with the desire to alleviate.
A doctor whom pity accompanies to the bedside of
his patients will find his observation not sufficiently
acute, his hands not sufficiently steady. We go

MS. OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR 14$

wherever compassion for the human race calls, but
we must leave pity behind us. Moreover, doctors
for the most part find it an easy task to attain the
callousness which is so necessary to them. That is
a mental condition which cannot long elude them,
and there are moral reasons for this. Pity speedily
becomes blunted when brought into contact with
suffering ; there is less disposition to deplore those
misfortunes for which alleviation can be procured ;
finally, to the physician an illness offers a succession
of interesting phenomena.

" From the time when I began the practice of
medicine I flung myself into it with ardour. In
the bodily ills disclosed to me I saw only oppor-
tunities for the practical application of my art.
When a complaint developed without complica-
tions, I was able to see beauty in its conformity to
the normal type. Those phenomena of disease,
which offered apparent anomalies, awakened curi-
osity in my mind ; so that I was enamoured of
disease. What am I saying ? From the point of
view I espoused disease and health were possessed
of indisputable personality. As an enthusiastic
observer of the human mechanism, I found as much
to admire in its more baleful affections as in its
most healthy compliance with law. Willingly
should I have exclaimed with Pinel : * What a
magnificent cancer ! ' That was a fine attitude of

L

146 MOTHER OF PEARL

mind, and I was on my way to become a philo-
sopher-physician. I only needed to have a genius
for my art in order to enjoy completely, and enter
into possession of, the full beauty of the theory of
disease classification. It is the privilege of genius
to unveil the splendour of things. Where the
ordinary man would see only a disgusting wound,
the naturalist worthy of the name stands en-
raptured before a battlefield on which the mys-
terious forces of life struggle for supremacy, in an
encounter more inexorable, more terrifying than
any that the strenuous abandon of Salvator Rosa
ever depicted. I only caught glimpses of that
spectacle of which the Magendies and Claude
Bernards were familiar witnesses, and it was a
distinction for me to do so ; but though resigned
to the career of a humble practitioner, I fortified
myself, as a professional duty, in the habit of con-
fronting grievous situations unemotionally. I gave
my patients my energies and my intellect, i did
not give them pity. God forbid that I should
place any gift, howsoever precious, above His gift
of pity ! Pity is the widow's mite ; it is the in-
comparable offering of the poor man, who with
generosity outstripping that of all the wealthy in
this world of ours, gives with the gift of his tears
a piece torn from his heart. For that very reason
it is that pity must be dissociated from the carry-

MS. OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR 147

ing out of a professional duty, how noble soe'er
that profession may be.

"To enter upon more particular considerations,
I would say that the folk in whose midst I am
living evoke in their misfortunes a sentiment
which is not pity. There is something of truth in
the theory that a man cannot inspire in another
an emotion which he is incapable of experiencing
himself. Now the peasantry in our part of the
country are not tender-hearted. Harsh to others
as to themselves, they drag out an existence morose
in its gravity. That gravity, too, is contagious,
and in their company sadness and dejection affect
one's mind. What is fine about their moral out-
look is that they preserve unscathed the nobler
features of humanity. As they are not accustomed
to think with any frequency or profundity, their
thoughts assume naturally in certain circumstances
a solemn tone. I have heard some of them give
utterance at the point of death to brief, forcible
speeches worthy of the patriarchs of the Old
Testament. They can call forth one's admiration,
but do not awaken one's sympathies. With them
everything is quite simple, even their illnesses.
Their sufferings are not accentuated by their im-
agination. They are not like those over-sensitive
creatures who construct from their ills a monster
more harassing than the ills themselves. They

I48 MOTHER OF PEARL

meet death so much as a matter of course that it is
impossible to be greatly disturbed. To sum up, I
might say that they are all so much alike that no
shred of individuality vanishes as each one passes
away.

" For the reasons which I have just set down it
follows that I practise my profession of village
doctor very peacefully. I never regret having
chosen it. I sometimes think I am a little above
it ; but if it is vexatious to a man to feel himself
above his position, the annoyance would certainly
be greater if he felt unequal to it. I am not rich,
and never shall be so long as I live. But of what
use would money be to one who leads a solitary
village life ? My little grey mare, Jenny, is as yet
only fifteen years old, and she still trots as easily as
in the days of her first youth, especially when we
are going in the direction of the stable. I do not,
like my illustrious fellow-physicians in Paris, possess
a gallery of pictures for the entertainment of my
visitors, but I can show pear trees which the towns-
men have nothing like. My orchard is famous for
twenty leagues round, and the owners of the neigh-
bouring chateaux come to beg cuttings from me.

" Now on a certain Monday — it will be a year ago
this very day — as I was busy in my garden inspecting
my espaliers, a farm servant came to beg me to call
as soon as possible at Les Alies.

MS. OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR 149

" I asked him whether Jean Blin, the farmer at
Les Alies, had sustained a fall the previous day as
he came home in the evening. For in my part of
the country a sprain is a common Sunday occur-
rence, and it is not at all rare for a man to break
two or three ribs that day on leaving the public-
house. Jean Blin is not exactly a bad sort, but he
likes drinking in company, and more than once he
has known what it is like to wait for Monday's
dawn at the bottom of a miry ditch.

"The farm servant replied that there was
nothing the matter with Jean Blin, but that Eloi,
Jean's little son, was seized with fever.

" Without another thought for my espaliers,
I went in search of my hat and stick, and set out
on foot for Les Alies, which is only twenty minutes'
walk from my house. As I walked, my thoughts
were on ahead with Jean Blin's little boy in the
grip of a fever. His father was a peasant much
like every other peasant, with this peculiar differ-
ence, that the Intelligence which created him forgot
to provide him with a brain. This great hulking
Jean Blin has a head as thick as his fist. Divine
wisdom has only furnished that particular skull
with what was strictly indispensable, there's no
getting over that. His wife, the best-looking woman
in the place, is a noisy, bustling housewife, stolidly
virtuous. Well, well ! To this worthy couple a child

150 MOTHER OF PEARL

had been given, who was easily the most delicate,
the most spiritual little being that ever adorned this
old world of ours. Heredity is responsible for some
of the surprises in nature, and it has been well said
that nobody knows what he is about when he
fathers a child. Heredity, according to our hon-
oured Nysten, is the biological phenomenon which
is responsible for the fact that, in addition to the
normal type of the species, ancestors transmit to their
descendants certain peculiarities of organization and
of aptitude. I admit it. But what peculiarities
are transmitted and what are not, that is what is
not very clear, even after a perusal of the learned
works of Doctor Lucas and Monsieur Ribot. My
neighbour, the notary, lent me last year a volume
by Monsieur Emile Zola, and I observe that that
author takes credit for particular discernment in
this respect. * Here,' he says, in substance, * is an
ancestor afflicted with neurosis ; his descendants
will show neuropathic tendencies, that is to say,
when they do not do so ; amongst them will be
found some foolish and some intelligent individuals ;
one of them may even be a genius.' He has gone
to the trouble of drawing up a genealogical chart
to make his idea more easily apprehended. Well
and good ! The discovery is not particularly novel,
and its expounder would unquestionably be ill-
advised to vaunt himself upon it; it is none the less

MS. OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR 151

true, however, that it embraces practically all we
know on the subject of heredity. And this is how
it came about that Eloi, Jean Blin's little son, was
an embodied intellect. He had the creative imagina-
tion. Many a time, when he was no higher than
my walking-stick, I have come across him playing
truant with the village urchins. Whilst they were
reaching after nests, I have watched the little
fellow constructing model mills and miniature
syphons with pipes of straw. Inventive and un-
sociable he turned to nature. His schoolmaster
despaired of ever making anything of so inatten-
tive a child ; and, to tell the truth, at eight years old
Eloi was still ignorant of his letters. But at that
age he learned to read and write with astonishing
rapidity, and in six months became the best scholar
in the village.

" He was the most affectionate and the most
clinging child. I gave him a few lessons in mathe-
matics, and was astounded at the fertility that his
mind displayed at this early age. In fact — I own it
without any fear of being ridiculed, for in an old
man cut off from civilization some exaggeration is
pardonable — I rejoiced to have detected in this little
peasant the premonitions of one of those enlightened
spirits which at long intervals shine forth in the
midst of our purblind race, and, impelled alike by
the need of lavishing their affection and the desire

152 MOTHER OF PEARL

for knowledge, are bound to effect something
useful or beautiful wherever fate may assign
them a place.

" My mind was occupied with musings of this
kind as far as Les Alies. Entering the low-ceiled
room, I found little Eloi ensconced in the big bed
with cotton hangings, to which no doubt his parents
had removed him on account of the gravity of his
condition. He was lethargic ; his head, though
small and delicate, nevertheless made as great a dent
in the pillow as if it had been of enormous weight.
I stole near. His forehead was on fire ; there was
a disquieting redness about the conjunctive mem-
brane ; the temperature of the body was altogether
too high. His mother and grandmother kept close
to him, anxiously. Jean Blin, whose uneasiness
prevented him from working, not knowing what
to do, and being afraid to go away, stood with his
hands in his pockets looking inquiringly first at one
and then at another. The child turned his drawn
face towards me, and scrutinizing me with an
affectionate but heartbreaking glance, said in reply
to my questions that his forehead and his eyes were
both very painful, that he could hear noises which
he knew were imaginary, and that he knew per-
fectly well who I was, his dear old friend.

" * First he has shivering fits, and then he is
feverishly hot/ said his mother.

MS. OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR 153

"Jean Blin, after ruminating for several minutes,
remarked —

"* My belief is that what ails him is his inside.'

" Then he relapsed into silence.

" It had been only too easy for me to diagnose
the symptoms of acute meningitis. I prescribed
revulsive applications to the feet, and leeches behind
the ears. I drew near to my little friend a second
time, and tried to say something cheerful to him,
more cheerful, alas ! than facts warranted. But I was
suddenly aware of an entirely new personal experi-
ence. Although I was completely self-possessed I
seemed to see the sick child through a veil, and at
such a distance that he appeared quite, quite small.
This upsetting of my ideas of space was speedily
followed by an analogous upheaval of my ideas of
time. Although my visit had not lasted above five
minutes, I received the impression that I had been
in that low-ceiled room, in front of that bed with
its white cotton hangings, for a long time, for a very
long time, and that months and even years had
rolled by whilst I was held motionless.

" By a mental effort which is perfectly natural to
me, I there and then put these singular impressions
under analysis, and the cause of them became quite
clear to me. It was simple enough. Eloi was
dear to me. At the sight of him so unexpectedly
and so seriously ill I could not 'get my bearings.'

154 MOTHER OF PEARL

It is the popular phrase, and it is appropriate.
Moments of anguish appear to us unnaturally
long. That is why I received the impression that
the five or six minutes I had passed beside Eloi
had something interminable about them. As to
the fancy that the child was at a distance from me,
that came from the idea that I was about to lose
him. This idea, impressed on me against my will,
had from the first moment assumed a character of
absolute certainty.

"The following day Eloi was in a less alarming
condition. The improvement continued for several
days. I had sent into the town to procure ice,
and this had had a good effect. But on the fifth
day I recognized that he was in violent delirium.
He talked a great deal, and amongst the discon-
nected words I heard him pouring out I could
distinguish these —

" * The balloon ! the balloon ! I have hold of
the helm of the balloon. It rises. The sky is
inky. Mamma, mamma ! why won't you come
with me ? I am steering my balloon to a place
where it will be so beautiful ! Come, it is stifling
here.'

"That day Jean Blin followed me up the road.
He slouched along with that air of embarrassment
a man has who wants to say something and is yet
afraid to say it. At last, after walking some twenty

MS. OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR 155

paces with me in silence, he stopped, and laying his
hand on my arm said —

" ' See here, Doctor, it's my belief that what ails
the little chap is his inside.'

" I continued my way sorrowfully, and for the
first time in my life my eagerness to see once more
my pears and apricots did not avail to mend my
pace. For the first time in forty years of practice
I found the plight of one of my patients heart-
rending, and in my inmost self 1 bewailed the child
I was powerless to save.

" Distracting pangs soon came to magnify my
grief. I feared that my treatment had contributed
to the development of the disease. I caught myself
forgetting in the morning what I had prescribed
the night before, uncertain in my diagnosis, nervous,
and worried. I called in one of my fellow-prac-
titioners, a clever young fellow, who had a practice
in the next village. When he arrived, the poor
little fellow, whose sight was already gone, was
plunged in a profound coma.

" The following day he died.

" A year having elapsed after this misfortune, it
happened that I was called in consultation to the
county town. The fact is singular. The causes
which led up to it are extraordinary ; but as they
have no connection with what I am relating, I do
not record them here. After the consultation. Dr.

156 MOTHER OF PEARL

C , physician to the prefecture, did me the

honour to invite me to lunch with him and two
other members of the profession. After lunch,
where I found refreshment in conversation at once
erudite and diversified, coffee was served to us in
the doctor's sanctum. As I approached the mantel-
piece to put down my empty cup, I saw hanging
upon the mirror-frame a portrait which aroused in
me so profound an emotion that it was with diffi-
culty I refrained from crying out. It was a minia-
ture, the portrait of a child. This child resembled
in so striking a fashion the one I had been unable
to cure — the child of whom I had been constantly
thinking for a year past — that for a moment I could
not avoid the thought that it was he himself. That
supposition, however, was of course absurd. The
black wooden frame, with the circlet of gold sur-
rounding the miniature, proclaimed the taste of the
end of the eighteenth century, and the child was
depicted in a vest of pink and white striped mate-
rial such as the little Louis XVII might have worn ;
but the face was out-and-out the face of my little
Eloi. The same forehead, imperious and powerful
— the forehead of a man beneath the curls of a
cherub ; the same fire in the eyes, the same suffer-
ing grace on the lips ! Indeed, to the very same
features was joined the identical expression !

"I had probably been examining this portrait for

MS. OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR 157

quite a long while when Dr. C , clapping me on

the shoulder, said —

" ' Ah, my friend, you have before you a family
relic which I am proud to possess. My maternal
grandfather was the friend of the illustrious man
whom you see painted there in the days of his
early boyhood, and it was from my grandfather
that that miniature came into my possession.'

" I asked him to be good enough to tell me the
name of his grandfather's illustrious friend. Upon
this he unhooked the miniature and held it out to
me :

"'See,' he said, 'on the exergue . . . Lyon, 1787.
Doesn't that recall anything to you ? No ? Well,
that child of twelve was the great Ampere.'

" Then, in a flash, I had an exact perception, an
unequivocal estimate of what death had swept away
one year previously in the farmhouse of Les Alies."

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER

TO PAUL ARENE

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER1
I

WAS born in seventeen hundred and
seventy in the rural outskirts of a
small town in the Langres district,
where my father, half townsman and
half peasant, dealt in cutlery and
tended his orchards. In this place certain nuns,
although they only educated girls, consented to
teach me to read since I was but a child, and they
were good friends of my mother. On leaving
their hands I took lessons in Latin from a priest
in the town, a shoemaker's son, well grounded in
the humanities. In the summer the shade of some
old chestnut-trees served as a schoolroom, and
close beside his hives the Abbe Lamadou inter-
preted Virgil's Georgics to me. I never dreamed
that any one could be happier than I, and between
my master and Mile. Rose, the farrier's daughter,

1 All the incidents in these memoirs are authentic, and may be
traced to various documents of the eighteenth century. Not a
single detail, however apparently insignificant, is made use of for
which indubitable authority cannot be produced. (AUTHOR.)
M 161

162 MOTHER OF PEARL

I lived in great contentment. But in this world no
happiness is enduring. One morning, as my mother
embraced me, she slipped an ecu of six livres into
my coat pocket. My luggage was packed. My father
leaped on his horse and, taking me up behind him,
carried me off to the college at Langres. All the
time the journey lasted I was dreaming of my own
little room, scented towards autumn time with the
perfume of the fruit stored up in the loft ; or of
the close where my father took me on Sunday to
gather apples from the trees he had grafted with
his own hand ; of Rose, of my sisters, of my
mother ; even of myself, unhappy exile ! I could
feel my heart thump, and it was with difficulty that
I held back the tears which filled my eyelids. At
length, after five hours' journey, we reached the
town and set foot to ground in front of a huge
door, on which I read with a shudder the word
College. The principal, Father Feval, of the Oratory,
received us in a big saloon with whitewashed walls.
He was still a young man, of impressive appearance,
and I found his smile reassuring. On all such
occasions my father had displayed a naturalness,
vivacity, and candour which never deserted him.

" Reverend Father," he said, placing his hand
on me, " I bring you here my only son. His name is
Pierre, after his godfather, and Aubier, his father's
name, which I have handed on to him as stainless

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 163

as I received it from my late dear father. Pierre
is my only boy ; his mother, Madeleine Ordalu,
having presented me with one son and three
daughters, whom I am bringing up to the best
of my ability. To my daughters will fall the lot
which it shall please God in the first place, and
later on their husbands, to assign to them. They
are said to be pretty, and I can't help believing it
myself. But beauty is only a gay deceiver which
it is best not to take into account. They will be
handsome enough if they are only good enough.
As to my son Pierre here before you (as he pro-
nounced these words my father put his hand so
heavily on my shoulder that he made me flinch),
provided that he fears God and knows enough
Latin, he is to be a priest. Very humbly then,
reverend father, I beg you to examine him at your
leisure, so as to ascertain his genuine capacities.
If you find any merit in him, let him remain with
you. I will willingly pay whatever is needful.
If, on the contrary, you consider that you can
make nothing of him, send me word, and I will
come and fetch him away at once, and teach him
how to make knives like his father. For I am a
cutler, at your service, reverend sir."

Father Feval agreed to undertake what was
asked of him. And upon this assurance, my father
took leave of the principal and of me also. As he

164 MOTHER OF PEARL

was very moved, and had some trouble to restrain
his sobs, he assumed a stiff and harsh expression,
and under the semblance of a farewell embrace be-
stowed a terrific thump. When he was gone,
Father Feval drew me away from the parlour into
a garden surrounded by a thick hedge. Then, as
we passed beneath the shade of the trees, he said

to me —

" O silvai dulces umbras frondosai ! " x

I was fortunate enough to recognize in these
archaic inflexions and ponderous prosody a line
from old Ennius, and I replied glibly to Father
Feval that Virgil was even more worthy than his
antique predecessor to celebrate the beauty of these
cool shades, frigus opacum. The principal seemed
quite gratified at this compliment. He questioned
me benevolently upon some rudimentary points,
and when he had heard my replies —

" That will do," he said. " If you work hard,
very hard indeed, you will be able to keep up with
the fourth class. Come with me. I should like
to introduce you myself to your master and your
fellow-pupils."

Whilst our little walk lasted, my forlornness had
somewhat abated, and I was conscious of feeling
supported in my distress. But no sooner did I

O leafy woods diffusing grateful shade !

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 165

find myself surrounded by my class-feliows and in
the presence of Monsieur Joursanvault, my master,
than I sank back into abject despair. Monsieur
Joursanvault was neither easy of access nor the
possessor of the principal's fine simplicity. He
appeared to me very much more impressed with
his own importance, and also more harsh and re-
served. He was a little man with a big head, and
his words found egress with a whistling noise
between two white lips and four yellow teeth. I
decided immediately that such a mouth as his was
never intended to pronounce the name Lavinia, a
name which I loved even better than that of Rose.
For I may as well own it, the idyllic and royal
fiancee of the unfortunate Turnus had been decked
by my imagination with the most august charms.
The ideal image I had formed of her sufficed to
eclipse the more everyday beauty of the farrier's
daughter. Monsieur Joursanvault then, the master
of the fourth class, pleased me little enough. My
class-fellows inspired me with fear : they had every
appearance of being unspeakably venturesome, and
it was not without reason that I dreaded that my
simplicity might goad them to ridicule. I was
very much inclined to cry.

Self-respect, a more powerful emotion than my
grief, alone enabled me to restrain my tears.

When evening came, I left the college and went

1 66 MOTHER OF PEARL

off into the town in search of the quarters which
my father had bespoken for me. I was to lodge
with five other scholars at the house of an artisan,
whose wife would do our cooking. Every month
each of us paid him twenty-five sous.

At the outset my schoolfellows tried to tease me
about my ill-cut clothes and my rustic appearance,
but they gave up their efforts when they saw that
they did not vex me. One of their number alone,
the consumptive son of a lawyer, continued in-
solently to imitate my lumpish, awkward carriage,
but I punished him with a fist so unexpectedly
weighty that he was not disposed to resume his
performance. Monsieur Joursanvault did not take
very kindly to me, but as I fulfilled my tasks with
regularity, I provided him with no occasion for
punishment. As he displayed his authority in a
violent, uncertain, and irritating fashion, he invited
rebellion, and, as a matter of fact, there were
several mutinous episodes in his class in which I,
however, took no part. One day, as I was walking
in the garden with the principal, who showed
himself very kindly disposed to me^ unluckily
it came into my head to boast to him of my
good conduct.

" Father," said I, " I took no part in the last
escapade."

"There's nothing to boast about in that," re-

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 167

plied Father Feval, with a touch of contempt which
rent my heart.

He hated meanness above everything in the
world. I made up my mind as he spoke never
again to say or do anything despicable. And if
from that day forward I have managed to keep
free from lying and mean-spiritedness, I owe it
entirely to that excellent man.

Monsieur Feval was in no respect a philosopher-
priest ; he exercised the virtues, but not the doc-
trines, of Rousseau's Vicaire Savoyard. He believed
everything a priest ought to believe. But he had a
horror of mummery, and could not endure the
idea of demanding the interposition of God in
trifling affairs. This appeared clearly enough on
the Christmas Day when Monsieur Joursanvault
came to him with a complaint against the impious
jesters who, on the eve of the festival, had put ink
in the holy water stoups.

The scandalized Joursanvault mumbled anathe-
mas, and murmured—

"There is no disputing the fact, it is a black
deed ! "

" By reason of the ink," replied our good princi-
pal calmly.

That upright man regarded weakness as the
direct source of all ills. He often said : "Lucifer
and the rebellious angels erred through pride, it

168 MOTHER OF PEARL

is on that account that even in hell they have not
ceased to hold rank as princes and kings, and to
maintain an awful supremacy over the souls of the
damned. If they had fallen through pettiness, in
the midst of the flames they would now be the
laughing-stock and sport of sinners, and the em-
pery of evil would have slipped from their dis-
honoured hands."

When the holidays came round it was a great
joy to me to see my home once more. But I
found it unaccountably shrunken. As I entered,
my mother, bending over the hearth, was skim-
ming the soup-kettle. She, too, my dear mother,
seemed strangely diminutive to me, and I sobbed
as I flung my arms round her.

With the skimmer in her hand she told me how
age and trouble had rendered my father inactive,
so that he was no longer able to look after his
orchard ; how my eldest sister was promised in
marriage to the cooper's son ; how the sacristan of
the parish had been found dead in his chamber,
with a bottle in his hand, which his stark fingers
clutched so firmly by the neck that it was thought
at first that it could never be loosened from his
hold. Yet it was scarcely decent to bear the
sacristan's body to the church still grasping his
bottle of wish-wash. As I listened to my mother
a clear realization of the flight of time and the

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 169

passing of things temporal for the first time
reached my brain. I fell into a sort of reverie.

"Well, well, my boy," said my mother, "you
look flourishing. Why, with your dimity jacket,
you are already the very spit of a little curt"

At this moment Mademoiselle Rose came into
the room, blushing and feigning to be completely
surprised at the sight of me. 1 saw that she was
interested in me, and felt secretly flattered. But
in her presence I assumed the grave and reserved
demeanour of the ecclesiastic. The greater part of
these holidays I spent in walks with Monsieur
Lamadou.

It had been agreed between us that we should
talk nothing but Latin. So we went our ways
through the midst of the lowly tasks of the tillers
of the soil, with nature riotous around us, side by
side, straight before us, grave, serious, guileless,
disdainful of such utterly vain and common pleasures
as we had knowledge of.

I returned to the college with the firm deter-
mination to take Holy Orders. Already I could
see myself, like Monsieur Lamadou, wearing a
great three-cornered hat and a cassock, with black
breeches, woollen stockings, and buckled shoes,
occupied now with the eloquence of Cicero, now
with the doctrine of St. Augustine, and gravely
acknowledging the salutes of the women and the

i yo MOTHER OF PEARL

poor folk who bowed to me as I threaded
my way through the crowd. Alas ! a woman's
shadow began to disturb this peaceful dream. Up
to that time I had known nothing of women, except
Lavinia in the Mneld and Mademoiselle Rose.
Then I realized Dido, and flames seemed to rush
through my veins. The image of the unhappy
Queen, who, tortured by an irremediable wound,
wandered in the forest of myrtles, bent at night
over my troubled couch.

Moreover, if I walked out in the evening, I
seemed to be aware of her dead white figure glid-
ing between the bushes in the woods as the moon
passes through the midst of the clouds. Obsessed
by this dazzling image, I began to waver about
taking Orders. Nevertheless, I assumed the dress
of the ecclesiastic, which suited me admirably.
When I visited my home for the first time thus
attired, my mother curtsied to me, and Rose hid
her face in her apron and wept. Then turning on
me her lovely eyes, as pellucid as her tears, she
said —

" I can't think what I am crying about, Monsieur
Pierre ! "

In this mood she was touching. But she did not
in the least resemble the moon seen through the
clouds. I did not love her ; it was Dido I loved.

That year was signalized to me by a dreadful

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 171

calamity. I lost my father, who sank very suddenly
under an attack of water on the chest.

In his last moments he adjured his children to
live honestly and piously, and blessed them. He
died with a degree of resignation which was not in
the least consonant with his character. It appeared
to be without regret, with cheerfulness even, that
he quitted a life to which he was strongly attached
by all the bonds of a nature essentially vivacious.
From him I learnt that it is easier to die than one
would think, if one is but a good man.

I resolved that I, in my turn, would act a father's
part to those elder sisters already marriageable, and
to that tearful mother who, year by year, seemed to
grow smaller, weaker, and more appealing.

Thus, then, in one moment, from a child I
became a man. I finished my studies at the Oratory
under excellent masters — Fathers Lance, Porriquet,
and Marion, who had buried themselves in a wild
and remote province to devote their brilliant facul-
ties and a profound erudition which would have
done honour to the Academy of Inscriptions to the
education of a few poor children. The principal
surpassed them all in loftiness of intellect and
beauty of soul.

Whilst I was finishing my philosophical studies
under those eminent teachers, a widespread rumour
was conveyed to our distant province, and even

1 72 MOTHER OF PEARL

penetrated the cloistral walls of the college. There
was gossip about a convocation of the States
General, and reforms were clamoured for, and great
changes expected. Some of the new publications
which our masters permitted us to read proclaimed
the approaching return of the Golden Age.

When the moment came for me to leave the
college, I wept as I embraced Father FeVal.

He held me clasped in his arms with profound
emotion. Then he led me to the hedge-sheltered
path where six years previously I had had my first
conversation with him.

There, taking me by the hand, he bent over me,
and looked into my eyes and said —

" Remember, dear child, that without principle
intellect goes for nothing. You will perhaps live
long enough to see the dawn of a new regime in
this land of ours. These great changes cannot be
brought about without disturbances. May you
bear in mind in the midst of them what I am tell-
ing you now : in difficult situations intellect is but
a sorry shield : virtue alone can suffice to safe-
guard him who merits safety."

Whilst he discoursed in this vein we emerged
from the arbour, and the sun, already low on the
horizon, bathed him in its warm crimson rays and
lit up his handsome, thoughtful countenance. I
was fortunate enough to retain a vivid impression

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 173

of his words, which struck me forcibly, although at
the time they were a little above my head. At that
date I was only a schoolboy, and not a very brilliant
one. Since then my eyes have been opened to the
profundity and truth of his maxims by the terrible
object-lesson of subsequent events.

II

HAD abandoned the idea of taking
Orders. It was necessary to earn a
livelihood. I had not learnt Latin
with the idea of making cutlery
in the suburbs of a small town.
1 indulged in ambitious dreams. Our little
holding, our cows, our garden, were far from
equal to the fulfilment of my ambitions. I dis-
covered rusticity in Mademoiselle Rose. My
mother conceived that a town such as Paris was
necessary to the full development of my abilities.
Without much difficulty I myself came to a
similar conclusion. I ordered a coat from the
best tailor in Langres. With this coat went a
steel-hilted sword, which threw back the skirts
and invested one with so smart an air that I doubted
nothing I was on the road to fortune. Father
Feval gave me a letter of recommendation to the
Due de Puybonne, and on the I2th of July, in the
year of grace 1789, I climbed into the coach, not
without tears, laden with Latin books, cakes, bacon,
and kisses. I entered Paris by the Faubourg St.

*74

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 175

Antoine, which appeared to me more hideous than
the most squalid hamlets in my own province.
With all my heart I bewailed both the unhappy
folk who had their dwelling there and myself who
had forsaken my father's house and orchard land
to seek advancement amidst such a tatterdemalion
crew. A wine merchant who had been my fellow-
traveller explained, however, that these people
were all in ecstasies over the destruction of an old
prison known as the Bastille-St. -Antoine. He
assured me that Monsieur Necker would soon
bring back the Golden Age. But a wigmaker, who
overheard our conversation, declared that, on the
contrary, unless the King speedily dismissed him,
Monsieur Necker would ruin the country.

"The Revolution," he added, "is a terrible
misfortune. Nobody now dresses his hair. And
people who neglect that duty are below the level
of the beasts."

These words angered the wine merchant.

" Know, master barber," he interposed, " that a
rejuvenescent race disdains idle trappings. I would
punish you for your impertinence, if I had time
to do so ; but I am on my way to supply wine to
Monsieur Bailly, the Mayor of Paris, who honours
me with his friendship."

In this fashion they parted ; and as for me, I
betook myself on foot, with my Latin books, my

1 76 MOTHER OF PEARL

bacon, and the memory of my mother's kisses to
the house of the Due de Puybonne, to present my
letter of recommendation. His mansion was
situated at the other end of the city in the Rue de
Crenelle. The passers-by vied with one another
in supplying me with directions, for the Duke was
celebrated for his benevolence.

He received me cordially. Everything in his
dress and in his manners was of the utmost sim-
plicity. He had that contented demeanour which
one only meets with in men who labour assiduously
without being compelled.

He read Father Feval's letter, and remarked —

" This is a satisfactory letter of recommendation,
but what are your acquirements ? "

I replied that I was acquainted with Latin, a
little Greek, ancient history, rhetoric, and poetry.

" What a list of accomplishments ! " he rejoined,
smiling. "But it would have been more to the
point if you had had some notion of agriculture,
the mechanical arts, commerce, banking, and in-
dustry. You are acquainted with the laws of Solon,
now, I'll wager ?"

I signified that I was.

"Very good, very good. But you know nothing
about the English constitution. But no matter.
You are young, and of an age to acquire knowledge.
I will give you a place about my person, with an

iMEMOlRS OF A VOLUNTEER 177

allowance of five hundred ecus. Monsieur Mille,
my secretary, will instruct you as to the duties
I shall expect you to perform. Au revoir, mon-
sieur."

A lackey conducted me to Monsieur Mille, who
was writing at a table in the middle of a spacious
white apartment. He signalled to me to wait.
He was a little roundabout man, and his appear-
ance was pleasant, but he rolled his eyes about
ferociously, and seemed to be scolding under his
breath as he wrote.

1 heard him give utterance to the following
words : " Tyrants, fetters, hell, man, Rome, slavery,
liberty."1 I concluded he was mad. But when he
had laid his pen aside he nodded his head to me
and smiled.

"Well?" he said. "You are examining the
apartment. It is as severe as that of an ancient
Roman. No gilding on the panels, no fal-lals on
the mantelpiece ; nothing is left to remind us of the
detestable times of the late king, nothing remains
that is derogatory to the dignity of a free man
(«» homme libre]. Libre ^ Tibre. I must jot that
rhyme down. It's a good one, now, isn't it ? 'Are
you fond of verse, Monsieur Pierre Aubier ? "

I replied that I was only too much devoted to it,

1 " Tyrans, fers, enfers^ homme, Rome, esclavage, liberte" Mon-
sieur Mille is, of course, engaged in a search for rhymes. (Ta^xs.)

178 MOTHER OF PEARL

and that it would have served me better when
I presented myself before the Duke if I had pre-
ferred Mr. Burke to Virgil.

" Virgil is a great man," replied Monsieur Mille.
" But what is your opinion of Monsieur Chenier ?
For my part I know nothing finer than his
Charles IX. I will not attempt to conceal from
you that I am myself experimenting in tragedy,
and at the very moment you entered I was finish-
ing a scene with which I am not a little pleased.
You appear to me to be a very trustworthy person.
I am quite willing to confide in you so far as to tell
you what my tragedy is about, but you mustn't
breathe a word. You realize how far-reaching the
least indiscretion might be. I am composing a
tragedy upon the subject of Lucretia."

Then taking up a large manuscript book he read
out : " Lucretia, a tragedy in five acts, dedicated to
Louis the Well Beloved, the restorer of liberty to
France"

He spouted some two hundred lines to me and
then broke off, saying in excuse that the remainder
was as yet uncorrected.

"The Duke's post-bag," he said with a sigh,
"robs me of the best hours of the day. We are
in correspondence with all the enlightened men in
England, Switzerland, and America. And talking
of this, I may tell you, Monsieur Aubier, that

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 179

your employment will consist of copying and
classifying letters. If you would like to be in-
formed without delay as to the matters which are
occupying our attention at this very moment, I will
tell you. At Puybonne we are superintending a
farm where certain English experts have been
engaged to introduce into France such agricultural
improvements as have been attained in Great
Britain. We are importing from Spain a number
of those silky-fleeced sheep the flocks of which have
enriched Segovia with their wool. This is so arduous
an undertaking that we have been compelled to
enlist the co-operation of the King himself. Lastly,
we are buying cows in Switzerland to present to
our dependents.

" I can say nothing on the subject of our corre-
spondence upon public affairs. Entire secrecy is
preserved as to that. But you are, of course, aware
that the efforts of the Due de Puybonne are
directed towards the introduction into France of
the English constitutional system. Pardon my
leaving you, Monsieur Aubier. I am due at the
Comedie Fran^aise. Alzire is to be performed."

That night I slept in fine linen sheets, and I did
not sleep well. 1 dreamed that my mother's bees
were flying over the ruins of the Bastille and around
the Due dc Puybonne, who smiled graciously, and
was enveloped in an unearthly radiance.

180 MOTHER OF PEARL

The following morning at an early hour I betook
myself to Monsieur Mille's room, and asked him if
he had enjoyed himself at the theatre. He replied
ihat he ventured to believe that the performance
of Ahdre had given him a clue to some of the
methods by which Monsieur de Voltaire stirred
the emotions of his audience. Then he set me
to work copying letters referring to the purchase
of the Swiss cows, which the generous magnate was
bestowing on his dependents. Whilst I occupied
myself with this task, Monsieur Mille said to me —

"The Duke is kind-hearted. I have recorded
his benevolent disposition in certain verses with
which I am not ill-pleased. Are you acquainted
with the Puybonne estate ? No ! It is a domain
of enchantment. My lines may open your eyes
to its charms. I will recite them to you —

Delightful valley, haven of repose,

Groves ever verdant, where the limpid stream

Peacefully onward flows,

Whose dulcet murmurings seem

Like note of birds, chanting their amorous woes ;

How my heart thrills your rural charms to view,

And longings seize me, 'neath your sheltering boughs

Her cherished name i' the beech's bark to hew.

In this fair spot our Puybonne reigns,

And uprightness and charity

Silently bear him company,

His spirit our happiness sustains.

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 181

The frolic shepherds, at his call,
Under the elms together come,
Who to his bounty, one and all,
Owe flocks, and herds, and home." l

I was astounded. At Langres I had never heard
anything so courtly, and I was impressed with the
fact that the air of Paris contained a something
inexpressible, which it was useless to seek else-
where.

After dinner I set out to inspect the principal
edifices of the town. The genius of art has spent
two centuries in distributing his treasures on the
glorious banks of the Seine. Hitherto I had only
been acquainted with Gothic castles and churches,
and their melancholy character, tinged with un-

1 Vallon delicieux, asile du repos,
Bocages toujours verts, oft 1'onde la plus pure

Roule paisiblement ses flots,

Et vient meler son doux murmure

Aux tendres concerts des oiseaux,
Que mon cceur est emu de vos beautes champctres !
Que j'aime a confier, sous ces riants berceaux,
Le doux nom d'une nymphe a 1'ecorce des hetres.

De ces beaux lieux Puybonne est possesscur ;
Avec lui la bonte, la douce bienfaisancc,
Dans ce palais habite en silence :
Le sentiment y retient le bonheur.
Puybonne enseigne aux folatres bergeres

A s'assembler sous les ormeaux,
II se mele parfois a leurs danses legeres,
Puis il leur donne des troupeaux.

182 MOTHER OF PEARL

couthness, only awakens displeasing thoughts in
the mind. Paris, it is true, still contains a certain
number of these barbaric structures. The cathedral
itself, which rises in that quarter of the town to
which the term City is specially assigned, bears
witness by the irregularity and confusion of its
plan to the ignorance of the age in which it was
erected. Parisians overlook its hideousness on the
score of its antiquity. Father Feval was accus-
tomed to say that everything antique is worthy of
respect.

But what a different aspect do the buildings of
the more cultured ages present ! A regularity in
plan, an exact proportion between the component
parts, an uncrowded arrangement in the grouping,
and then the charm of the various orders copied
from the antique — all these qualities dazzle one in
the creations of modern architects, and all unite
to render the colonnade of the Louvre a master-
piece worthy of France and its kings. Ah, what
a town is Paris ! Monsieur Mille showed me the
theatre where the finest actresses in the world ally
their voices and their charms to the inspired com-
positions of Mozart and Gluck. And in addition,
he even took me to the gardens of the Luxem-
bourg, where beneath the shade of venerable trees
I saw Raynal walking side by side with Dussaulx.
Ah, my honoured principal, my master, my father,

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 183

my beloved Monsieur Feval ! Would that you
were witness to the joy, the rapture of your pupil,
your son !

For six weeks I led the pleasantest of lives. All
around me I heard talk of the return of the Golden
Age, and I began to believe in the approach of the
car bearing Saturn and Rhea within it. In the
mornings, under Monsieur Mille's direction, I made
copies of letters.

Monsieur Mille was a boon companion, always
smiling, always uttering flowery speeches, always
volatile as a zephyr.

After dinner I would read a few pages of the
Encyclopaedia to our worthy employer, and then I
was free till the following morning. One night
I went with Monsieur Mille to supper at the
Porcherons. At the entrance of this place of amuse-
ment stood a group of women wearing the national
colours in their caps, and carrying flowers in a basket.
One of them, approaching me, took me by the arm
and said, " See, little master, I make you a present
of this bunch of roses."

I blushed, and was at a loss what to say in reply.
But Monsieur Mille, who knew the ways of the
town, said to me —

" You must give a six-sous piece in exchange for
those roses, and say something gallant to the pretty
maiden."

1 84 MOTHER OF PEARL

I did both one and the other, and then inquired
of Monsieur Mille if he thought the flower-seller
was a well-conducted girl. He replied that there
was very little likelihood of it, but that it was a duty
to show courtesy to all women. Day by day I
became more attached to the excellent Due de
Puybonne. He was the best and the most childlike
of men. He did not consider that he had given any-
thing whatever to the unfortunate unless it had cost
him some self-sacrifice. He lived like a man of the
people, and regarded the luxury of the rich as a
preying upon the poor. His benefactions were well
considered. One day, addressing us both, he
said —

" No pleasure is more gratifying than to labour
for the happiness of people unknown to you,
whether by planting some useful tree, or by grafting
on young saplings in the woods buds from which
one day may spring fruit to assuage the thirst of
some traveller astray."

The worthy Duke found no interests except in
works of philanthropy. He laboured ardently to
secure new constitutional forms to the kingdom.
As a representative peer in the National Assembly
he took his seat in the ranks of those admirers of
English liberty who were styled monarchical, by
the side of Malouet and Stanislas de Clermont-Ton-
nerre. And although his party appeared even then

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 185

defeated, he awaited with all the fervour of indomi-
table hope the oncoming of revolution in its most
humane aspect. We shared his aspirations.

Despite numerous causes for uneasiness, we
continued during the following year to be upheld
by this enthusiasm. I accompanied Monsieur Mille
to the Champ de Mars at the beginning of July.
On this spot two hundred thousand persons of all
ranks — men, women, children — were erecting with
their own hands the altar upon which all were to
swear that they would live free, or, if needs must,
die free. Wig-makers in bluejackets, water-carriers,
abbes, coal-heavers, capuchins, opera-singers in
brocaded dresses with ribbons and feathers in their
hair, all these side by side delved the sacred soil of
their country. What an object-lesson in fraternity !
We saw Monsieur Sieves and Monsieur de Beau-
harnais trundling the same cart ; we saw Father
Gerard, passing like an ancient Roman from the
Senate to the plough, wielding the spade and pre-
paring the ground ; we saw an entire family at
work in the same spot — the father digging, the
mother filling the wheelbarrow, and the children
pushing it turn and turn about, whilst the youngest,
only four years of age, borne in the arms of his
Grandfather aged ninety-three, lisped out : " Ah !
fa ira ! fa ira /" We saw the Society of Journey-
men Gardeners marching in procession with lettuces

1 86 MOTHER OF PEARL

and daisies attached to the ends of their spades.
Several other corporations followed them, preceded
by a band : the Printers, whose banner bore this
inscription: Printing, foremost ensign of Liberty. Then
the Butchers : upon their standard was painted a
large knife, with these words : Tremble^ aristocrats !
Behold the Journeymen Butchers.

And even this took on the appearance for us of
fraternity.

" Aubier, my friend, my brother," exclaimed Mon-
sieur Mille, " I am fired with poetical enthusiasm
I am about to compose an ode which shall be dedi-
cated to you. Listen : —

Friend, behold the concourse grand,

From far and wide assembled there,
The mainstays of our own loved land,

Whose banners proudly take the air :
Love it is directs their path

Toward the patriot altar-fires,
Each his bounden service hath

Vowed, till Life's last flame expires." l

1 Ami, vois tu ce peuple immense,
Comme il accourt de toutes parts :
Des artisans chers a la France
Vois-tu Hotter les etendards ?
C'est a 1'autel de la Patrie.
Que 1'amour dirige leurs pas ;
Tous vont a leur mere cherie
Se devouer jusqu'au trepas.

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 187

Monsieur Mille recited these lines heroically ;
he was little, but his gestures were magnificent.
He was wearing an amaranth-coloured coat. These
circumstances combined to draw attention to him,
and by the time he had finished the foregoing he
was surrounded by a ring of inquisitive people.
He was applauded. In ecstasies, he went on —

" Unseal your eyes, direct your minds
Upon this solemn spectacle . . ." l

But scarcely had he uttered these words before a
lady, decked with an immense black hat and feathers,
flung herself into his arms and clasped him close
against the fichu she wore round her shoulders.

" Ah, how splendid ! " she cried. " Monsieur
Mille, permit me to embrace you."

A Capuchin who occupied a place in the ring of
onlookers, bent his chin down on to his spade and
clapped his hands at the sight of such a capacious
embrace. Then some of the young patriots who
stood by pushed him laughingly in the direction of
the demonstrative lady, who transferred her em-
braces to him in the midst of popular acclamations.
Monsieur Mille embraced me, and I embraced
Monsieur Mille.

"Such splendid lines!" cried the lady with the

1 (Dime tes yeux, fixe ton ame
Sur ce spectacle solennel . . .

1 88 MOTHER OF PEARL

outrageous hat. " Bravo, Mille ! They are worthy
of Jean Baptiste."

"Oh !" said Monsieur Mille, bashfully hanging
his head, his cheeks round and red as apples.

" Yes, absolutely worthy of Jean Baptiste,"
repeated Madame. " They must be set to the tune
of ' Le serin qui te fait envie.'"1

" You are too flattering," Monsieur Mille re-
plied. " Permit me, Madame Berthemet, to
present to you my friend Pierre Aubier, a Limou-
sin gentleman. He is a man of parts, and will
soon be accustomed to the ways of Paris."

"The dear creature," Madame Berthemet re-
joined, as she pressed my hand. " Let him come
to see us. You must bring him, Monsieur Mille.
We have a little music always on Thursdays. Is
he fond of music ? But what a foolish question !
Only a barbarian given over to every savage
passion could fail to love music. Come this next
Thursday, Monsieur Aubier ; my daughter Amelie
will sing you a ballad."

As she spoke, Madame Berthemet motioned to a
young lady dressed in white, with a Greek head-
dress, whose fair hair and blue eyes seemed to me
the loveliest in the world. I blushed as I bowed.
But she did not appear to notice my embarrass-
ment.

1 The canary which spurs you to rivalry.

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 189

As we returned to the Puybonne mansion I did
not attempt to conceal from Monsieur Mille the
profound impression the beauty of this charming
creature had made on me.

" In that case," replied Monsieur Mille, " I shall
have to add a strophe to my ode."

And after reflecting for a few seconds, he added,
"There now, I have managed it.

If some maiden, fair and fond,

To your wooing yields consent,
Only wedlock's sacred bond

Must your mutual vows cement.
But the altar where you hie

Must a patriot altar be,
Or the Heaven you dare defy

"Will avenge your treachery."1

Alas I Monsieur Mille did not possess that gift
of foretelling future events which was in former
ages ascribed to poets. Our days of happiness
were already numbered, and all our dazzling illu-
sions were doomed to extinction. The day follow-

1 Si d'une belle honnete et sage

Tu sais un jour te faire aimer,
Lc noeud sacre du manage

Est le seul que tu dois former ;
Mais a 1'autel de la Patrie

Courez tous deux pour vous unir,
Que jamais votre foi trahie

N'ordonne au ciel de vous punir.

190 MOTHER OF PEARL

ing the Federation fete the nation awakened to a
sense of harrowing dissension. Weak and narrow-
minded, the king ill fulfilled the limitless trust the
people had placed in him.

The criminal emigration of princes and nobility
was impoverishing the country, antagonizing the
people, and conducing to war. The political clubs
overawed the National Assembly. The acrimony
of the populace became more and more menacing.
And whilst the nation was a prey to agitators,
neither did I possess my heart in peace. I had met
Amelie again. I had become the constant guest of
her family, and never a week passed that did not
find me two or three times a visitor at the house
they lived in, in the Rue Neuve St. Eustache.
Their fortunes, at one time flourishing, had flagged
considerably owing to the Revolution, and I may
venture to say that ill-luck ripened our friendship.
As Amelie became poorer I found myself more
sympathetic, and I loved her. I loved without
hope. Who was I, poor little peasant lad, that I
should be pleasing to so charming a townswoman ?

I marvelled at her gifts. By composing music,
painting, or translating some English romance, she
courageously shut out the consciousness of mis-
fortune, both public and private. Whenever she
saw any one she displayed an aloofness which, so
far as I was concerned, would relapse freely into

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 191

playful banter. It was clear that though her heart
was untouched she found my company diverting.
Her father was the handsomest grenadier in the
district, but in all other respects a nonentity. As
to Madame Berthemet, she was, despite a petulant
disposition, the best of women. She was brimming
with enthusiasm. She appreciated parakeets, poli-
tical economists, and Monsieur Mille's poetry to
the swooning point. She was fond of me when
she could spare time, but much of hers was taken
up by the gazettes and the opera. Next to her
daughter there was no one in the world whom it
gave me greater pleasure to meet.

I had progressed greatly in the good graces of
the Due de Puybonne. I was no longer engaged
in the copying of letters : he entrusted me with
the most delicate transactions, and often confided to
me matters as to which Monsieur Mille himself
was left in ignorance.

Moreover, he had lost faith, if not courage.
The humiliating flight of Louis XVI distressed
him more than I can say ; yet after the return from
Varennes he appeared unintermittently in the en-
tourage of the royal prisoner, who had despised his
advice and been suspicious of his loyalty. My dear
master remained immutably faithful to moribund
royalty. On the loth of August he was at the
Chateau, and it was by a sort of miracle that he

1 92 MOTHER OF PEARL

eluded the mob and managed to get back to his
house. During the night I was summoned to him.
I found him disguised in the clothes of one of his
stewards.

" Farewell," he said to me. " I am leaving a
country delivered over to all sorts of abominations
and crimes. The day after to-morrow 1 shall have
landed on the coast of England. I am taking with
me three hundred louis ; it is all I have been able
to get together of what I own. I am leaving be-
hind me property to a considerable amount. I
have no one to trust my interests to but your-
self. Mille is a fool. Take my affairs into your
keeping. I know that you will incur danger in
doing so ; but I think highly enough of you to
burden you with a compromising load."

1 seized his hands, kissed them, and bathed them
with tears ; it was my only answer.

Whilst he escaped from Paris under cover of
his disguise and a forged passport with which he
was provided, I burned in the various fireplaces in
the house papers which would have sufficed to
compromise whole families, and cost the lives of
hundreds of people. During the days that followed
I was lucky enough to be able to dispose — at very
poor prices, it is true — of the Due de Puybonne's
carriages, horses, and plate, and in this fashion I
salvaged some seventy or eighty thousand livres,

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 193

which crossed the Channel. It was not without
encountering the greatest dangers that I carried
these delicate negotiations through. My life hung
in the balance. The Terror prevailed in the capital
the day following the loth of August. In those
streets which only the previous evening were en-
livened by the motley variety of costumes, where
the cries of hawkers and the clatter of horses had
resounded, solitude and silence now reigned. All
the shops were closed ; the citizens, concealed in
their dwellings, trembled both for their friends and
for themselves.

The barriers were guarded, and it was impossible
for any one to leave the appalling city. Patrols of
men armed with pikes paraded the streets. Domi-
ciliary inspections were the only subject of conver-
sation. In my chamber, high up in the roof of the
mansion, I could hear the tramp of the armed
citizens, the hammering of pikes and the butts of
muskets against the neighbouring doors, and the
wailing and screaming of the occupants, who were
dragged off to the sections. And after the sans-
culottes had terrorized the peaceable dwellers in the
neighbourhood throughout the day, they would
assemble in the shop of my neighbour the grocer ;
there they would drink, dance the carmagnole, and
shriek the Ca ira till morning dawned, so that it
was impossible for me to close my eyes all night.

194 MOTHER OF PEARL

My uneasiness increased the distress of insomnia.
I could not but fear that some valet might have
betrayed me, and that my arrest was already
ordered.

Just then a fever of denunciation spread through
the town. Never a scullion but believed himself a
Brutus for the betrayal of the masters who had
furnished him with a living.

I was continuously on the alert, and a faithful
servant was ready to warn me at the first sound of
the knocker. Fully dressed I would throw myself
on my bed or into an arm-chair. I carried about
with me the key of the small gate in the garden.
But as those execrable September days dragged on,
when I learned that hundreds of prisoners had
been- massacred without the least public protest,
and under the approving eyes of the magistrates,
horror at length got the better of fear in my mind,
and I blushed to be taking such precautions for my
safety, and defending with so much forethought an
existence which the crimes of my country should
have rendered worthless.

No longer did I shrink from showing myself in
the streets or encountering the patrols. Neverthe-
less, I clung to life. I possessed a powerful charm
against my anguish and grief. One delightful
vision banished from my sight the whole sombre
panorama which unrolled itself before me. I loved

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 195

Amelie, and her youthful countenance omnipresent
to my imagination, held me spell-bound. I loved
without hope. Nevertheless, I seemed to myself less
unworthy of her now that I was acting like a man of
courage. I dared, too, to fancy that the dangers
to which I was exposed might render me more
interesting to her.

In this frame of mind then I went to see her one
morning. I found her alone. She talked to me
with more benignity than she had ever before dis-
played. Her eyes were cast heavenwards, and
tears fell from them. At the sight I was plunged in
the most indescribable distress. I threw myself
at her feet, seized her hand, and bathed it with
tears.

" O, my brother ! " she exclaimed, compelling
me to rise. I had not realized up to that moment
the bitter sweetness the name of brother can
hold. I addressed her with my whole soul's
tenderness.

" Yes," I cried, " the times are frightful. Man-
kind is steeped in wickedness. Let us away. Hap-
piness is to be sought in solitude. There are still
distant islands where it is possible to live in in-
nocence and freedom from oppression. Let us
depart. We will seek for happiness beneath
the palms that cast their shade over the tomb of
Virginia."

196 MOTHER OF PEARL

As I talked in this fashion she seemed to be in
a dream, and her eyes had a far-away look ; but I
could not tell whether her dream and mine were
one and the same.

Ill

SPENT the rest of the day in the
most harrowing suspense. I was
powerless either to indulge in rest
or to engage in any occupation.
Solitude was repellent, and company
uncongenial. In this mood I wandered haphazard
along the streets and quays of the town, sorrow-
fully gazing at the mutilated armorial achievements
on the fronts of the houses, and at the decapi-
tated saints in the church porches. Thus pre-
occupied I found myself unconsciously in the
garden of the Palais Royal, where a motley crowd
of pedestrians had gathered to drink coffee and
glance over the gazettes. The wooden galleries,
by the way, had not ceased to present a festal
appearance at all hours.

In consequence of the declaration of war and the
progress of the allied armies, the Parisians had
fallen into the habit of seeking for news at the
Tuileries and the Palais Royal. In fine weather
the crowd would be considerable, and anxiety even
brought in its train a certain degree of distraction.

197

198 MOTHER OF PEARL

Many of the women, simply attired after the
Greek fashion, wore the national colours, either at
the waist or in the head-dress. I felt more lonely
than ever in this crowd ; all the noise, the move-
ment which surrounded me, only served, so to say,
to drive back and concentrate my thoughts upon
myself.

"Alas ! " I said to myself, "have I said enough?
Have I shown my feelings unmistakably ? Or
rather, have I said too much ? Will she ever con-
sent to receive me again, now that she knows I love
her ? But does she know it ? and does she care to
know it ? "

In this fashion I groaned over the uncertainty
of my fate, when my attention was violently
diverted by the tones of a familiar voice. I
raised my eyes and saw Monsieur Mille stand-
ing up in a cafe and singing in the midst of
a group of women "patriots" and "citizens."
He was dressed as a national guard, and with
his left arm he encircled a young woman, in
whom I recognized one of the flower-sellers
from Ramponneau. To the tune of Lisette he
was singing these words : —

" Though patriots hundreds strong

To break our bonds are fain,
Women, in thousands, long
To readjust the chain ;

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 199

Tradition holds them fast,
With pitying scorn they view

Whoso abhors the past

And welcomes in the new." l

This verse was received with a murmur of ap-
proval. Monsieur Mille smiled, bowed gracefully,
and then, turning to his companion, recommenced

his song —

" Ah ! not with such join hands,

Sophie, beloved maid !
Philosophy's commands

Yield kindlier, holier aid :
Her guidance she outpours

On those — O happy chance ! —
Who to Her rights restores

Our own, our much wronged France." 2

1 S'il est douze cents deputes

Qui brisent nos entraves,
Le voeu de cent mille beautes

Est de nous rendre esclaves :
Toutes nos dames ont regret

A 1'ancien regime,
Et louer un nouveau decret

C'est perdre leur estime.

2 Ah ! ne les imitez jamais,

Adorable Sophie,
Et connaissez mieux lea bienfaits

De la philosophic ;
C'est elle qui dicte les lois

Aux Solons de la France,
Et qui fera dans tous ses droits

Rentrer un peuple immense.

200 MOTHER OF PEARL

Applause followed, and Monsieur Mille, drawing
from his pocket a bunch of ribbons, handed it to
Sophie as he resumed his song —

" Hasten then, far and wide,

This gay cockade to show,
Which fills my breast with pride,

When to my guard I go.
"What's gold, with tawdry glint,

To the bud which half uncloses ?
This badge of triple tint

Outvies the fairest roses."1

Sophie fastened the ribbon in her cap, and swept
the audience with a glance comprehending both
triumph and vacancy. Again there was applause.
Monsieur Mille bowed. He gazed at the crowd
without recognizing me or anybody else ; or, rather,
in that crowd he was conscious only of himself.

" Ah ! monsieur," exclaimed my neighbour, who
in his enthusiasm was bestowing on me a tender
embrace ; " ah ! if the Prussians or the Austrians
could see that ! They would shudder, monsieur !
We were betrayed into their hands at Longwy

1 Hatez-vouz done de 1'arborer

Cette belle cocarde,
Dont j'aime tant a me parer

Quand je monte ma garde :
Vous devez preferer a 1'or

Les fleurs a peine ecloses ;
Ce joli ruban tricolor

A tout 1'eclat des roses.

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 201

and Verdun. But if they reached Paris it would
be their tomb. The spirit of the populace is
altogether martial. I have just come from the
Tuileries gardens, monsieur. There I heard some
singers stationed in front of the statue of Liberty
giving voice to the war song of the Marseilles.
A frenzied crowd was shouting in chorus the re-
frain * Aux armes, citoyensT If the Prussians had
only been there ! They would have disappeared
underground ! "

The man who thus discoursed to me was a very
ordinary person, neither handsome nor ugly, neither
short nor tall. He was as like his neighbour as
two peas, and there was nothing about him in-
dividual or distinctive. As he spoke rather loudly
he was soon surrounded. After coughing impres-
sively, he continued —

"The enemy is approaching from Chalons. We
must encircle them with a ring of steel. Citizens,
it is we who must have an eye to the public welfare.
Put not your trust in generals, nor in staff officers
and troops of the line, nor in ministers of State,
even though you have elected them yourselves ; no,
not even in your representatives at the Convention.
We must be our own salvation."

" Bravo ! " cried some one in the audience ; " let
us fly to Chalons ! "

A little man here made a spirited interruption.

202 MOTHER OF PEARL

" Patriots have no business to leave Paris until
the traitors have been exterminated."

These words were uttered in a voice which I
instantly recognized. On that point I could not
be deceived. That tremendous head waggling
about on a narrow pair of shoulders, that dull livid
face, that shape at once mean and monstrous, could
belong to none other than my old schoolmaster —
Father Joursanvault. His cassock had given place
to a wretched jacket. His countenance sweated
hate and apostasy. I looked in another direction,
but I could not avoid hearing the old Oratorian
continue his discourse in this manner :

" Enough blood was not shed during the glorious
days of September. The populace is ever too
inclined to magnanimity, and has been too tender
towards conspirators and traitors."

At these terrible words I took to my heels
horror-struck. In my childhood I had suspected
Monsieur Joursanvault of being neither just nor
benevolent. I disliked him, indeed. But I was
far from fathoming the blackness of his soul. At
the discovery that my old master was nothing but
an unprincipled rascal, I was overwhelmed with
mingled bitterness and grief.

" Oh, that I were still but a child ! " I exclaimed.
" What is the use of life if it cannot bring us to
anything better than dilemmas such as this ? Dear

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 203

principal, dear Father Feval, my recollections of
you must temper the sorrows that overwhelm me !
Into what dangers has the tempest cast you, my
dear and only master ? This I know, at any rate,
that wherever you may be, humanity, pity, and
heroism prevail all around you. You taught me,
reverend master, the worth of rectitude and cour-
age. You foresaw the days of trial and strengthened
my heart. May your pupil, your son, never show
himself too unworthy of your care ! "

I had hardly concluded this mental invocation
when I felt inspired with fresh courage. And my
thoughts harking back by a natural inclination to
my dear Am61ie, I realized all in a moment what
my duty was, and resolved to fulfil it. I had dis-
closed my feelings to Amelie; was I not bound
to make the same declaration to Madame Berthe-
met?

I was only a few paces from the door, for in my
self-communing I had naturally drifted towards the
house which contained my Amelie. I entered and
made my avowal.

Madame Berthemet smilingly replied that my
conduct was very praiseworthy. Then, adopting a
graver tone, she said —

" I am going to make you my confidant since
I cannot otherwise satisfy you. Do not delude
yourself; you must abandon all hope. My daughter

204 MOTHER OF PEARL

is beloved by the Chevalier de St. Ange, and I
believe that she is not insensible to his devotion.
I should be glad enough, however, if she were to
dismiss him from her thoughts. For our fortunes
are on the wane from day to day, and the Chevalier's
love is consequently put to a test which the most
ardent sentiments are not always proof against."

The Chevalier de St. Ange ! I shuddered at
the name. I had a rival, and that rival the most
fascinating of poets, the most attractive of novelists.
Birth, connections, good looks, talents, he possessed
everything calculated to smooth his path. Only
the previous evening I had observed in a lady's
hands a tortoiseshell box, with a portrait in minia-
ture, mounted on the lid, of the Chevalier de St.
Ange, in the uniform of a dragoon.

As I caught sight of it I envied him, as did every
other man of his acquaintance, his manly elegance
and inimitable grace. Every morning I could hear
my neighbour, the mercer's wife, singing at her
doorstep the immortal ballad known as The Pledge —

Thou who shouldst never have seen the light,
Pledge, beloved, that my fault endears ;

Never, ah never, thou luckless wight,

Frailty of mine to thine eyes bring tears.1

1 O toi qui n'eus jamais dti naitre,

Gage trop cher d'un fol amour ;
Puisses-tu ne jamais connaitre,

L'erreur qui te donna le jour ! (Le (jag*-)

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 205

But a little while since I had been reading with
delight the philosophical romance which opened
the doors of the French Academy to the Chevalier
de St. Ange ; that admirable Cynegyre which leaves
far behind it the Numa Pompilius of Monsieur
Florian. "Your Cynegyre" said the venerable
Monsieur Sedaine to the Chevalier de St. Ange,
as he received him into the illustrious company,
"your Cyntgyre was dedicated to the manes of
Fenelon, and the offering was not unworthy of the
altar." Such was my rival — the impassioned author
of The Pledge — a man of whom people spoke in
one breath with Fenelon and Voltaire ! I could
not overcome my embarrassment ; astonishment
numbed my distress.

" What, Madame ! " I exclaimed, " the Chevalier
de St. Ange ! "

"Yes," rejoined Madame Berthemet, shaking
her head, " a brilliant writer. But do not imagine
for a moment that he is personally the man
you would conjecture from his heroical poems.
Alas ! as our fortunes diminish his love ebbs with
them."

She added kindly that she regretted that her
daughter's choice had not fallen upon me.

" Talents," she said, " do not make for happiness.
On the contrary, men endowed with extraordinary
powers, poets and orators, ought to live single.

206 MOTHER OF PEARL

What need of companions have they who cannot
mate with their equals. Their genius alone is
sufficient to foster egoism. One cannot be an
eminent man without incurring the penalties."

But I was no longer heedful of her remarks. I
could not shake off my astonishment. Her dis-
closure had killed my love. I had never hoped
for its return, and, without hope, love is not
endued with any considerable vitality. Mine died
at the utterance of a single word.

The Chevalier de St. Ange ! Shall I admit it ?
Although my heart bled, my self-esteem experienced
a sort of satisfaction at the thought that, fore-
stalled by such a rival, anybody else, no matter
who, would have met the same fate as myself. I
pressed a hundred kisses on Madame Berthemet's
hands, and left her house calmly, silently, slowly,
a mere shadow of the ardent lover who had entered
but an hour before, determined to make a clean
breast of his scruples and his passion to the mother
of Amelie. I was disconsolate. Not that I suffered.
I was simply filled with surprise, shame, and fear
at the discovery that I could outlive what had
seemed the best part of me, my love.

As I crossed the Pont Neuf to regain my de-
serted faubourg, I saw in the open space, at the foot
of the pedestal upon which the statue of Henri IV
had recently been erected, a singer from the

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 207

Academy of Music, who was declaiming in a
moving voice the hymn of the Marseilles. The
crowd which had collected round him, with bare
heads, took up the refrain in chorus, " Aux armes,
citoyens ! " But when the singer struck up the
last verse, " Amour sacrt de la Patrie" in slow and
solemn tones, a shiver of unearthly exaltation
passed through the crowd. At the line —

Libert t, liberte cherie . . .

I fell on my knees upon the pavement, and beheld
all the people around me likewise fallen prostrate.
O, my country, my country ! what spells do you
weave that your children worship you so ? Even
from out the mire and the blood your image rises
radiant. My country ! happy are they who die for
you. The sun, which was now dipping towards
the horizon, surrounded by blood-hued clouds, lit
into liquid flame the waters of the most famous of
rivers. Hail to you, ultimate illumination of my
days of happiness !

Alack ! into what a winter of discontent I passed
that night ! When I closed the door of my little
chamber in the roof of the Due de Puybonne's
mansion, I felt as though I were cementing the
stone over my own tomb.

" All is over ! " I said through my sobs. " I
love Amelic no longer. But how is it that 1 am

208 MOTHER OF PEARL

forced to remind myself of the fact so untiringly ?
How is it that, loving her no longer, I cannot turn
my thoughts away from her ? Why do I lament
so bitterly the uprooting of my wretched love ? "

Cruel anxieties were added to my personal
sorrows. The state of public affairs was driving
me to desperation. My destitution was extreme,
and, far from cherishing the hope of obtaining
work, I was reduced to concealing myself for fear
of being arrested as a suspicious character.

Monsieur Mille had not put in an appearance at
the house since the loth of August. I have no
idea where he lodged ; but he never missed a
single sitting of the Commune, and every day
before the municipality, amid enthusiastic applause
from the tricoteuses l and sans-culottes, he would recite
a new patriotic hymn. Indeed he was the most
patriotic of poets, and citizen Dorat-Cubieres him-
self, beside him, was a timid Feuillant? under the
grave suspicion of the demagogues. I had been
engaged in incriminating transactions ; moreover,
Monsieur Mille made no attempt to visit me, and

1 The women who formed part of the revolutionary mobs were
known as tricoteuses from their habit of knitting at all seasons, even
at the foot of the guillotine ; the sans-culottes were the men of the
same class. Their nether garments, of course, were rather in rags
and tatters than wanting altogether. (TRANS.)

2 A member of an anti-Jacobin Society, known as Feulllants.
(TRANS.)

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 209

my own scruples made it an easy duty for me not to
go in search of him. Nevertheless, being a good-
hearted man, he sent me his collection of songs when
the printing was completed. Ah, how slight the re-
semblance between his second muse and his first !
The latter had been powdered, painted, perfumed.
The new one resembled a fury, with serpents for
locks of hair. I can still recall the song of the sans-
culottes, which aimed at being very malicious. It
began thus —

Long, long enough, yea far too long

Dread tyranny has claimed our song,
And despots swayed our lot.

Now breaks the dawn of Liberty,

Of Law, and fair Equality :
All hail ! the Sans-Culottes ! x

The trial of the king aroused me to indescribable
distress. My days rolled by in horror. One
morning there was a knock at the door. I divined
somehow that it proceeded from a gentle and
friendly hand. I opened, and Madame Berthemet
flung herself into my arms.

" Save me, save us ! " she said. " My brother,

1 Amis, assez et trop longtemps,
Sous le regne affreux des tyrans,

On chanta les despotes.
Sous celui de 1'Egalite,
Des Lois et de la Liber te,

Chantons les Sans-Culottes.

2io MOTHER OF PEARL

Monsieur Eustance, my only brother, was scheduled
as an emigrd,1 and came to seek shelter in my house.
He was denounced and arrested. He has been in
prison now for five days. Luckily the accusation
which hangs over him is vague and ill-founded.
My brother was never an Emigre. To effect his
release, all that is necessary is that some one
who can vouch for his unbroken residence in
France will give evidence in his favour. I begged
the Chevalier de St. Ange to do me this service.
He prudently begged to be excused. Well ! my
friend, my son, that service which it would be
perilous to him to render me, to you will be still
more perilous ; yet I come to ask it of you."

I thanked her for her request as if it had been
a favour. And, indeed, it was so to be regarded,
and of a quality so inestimable that an upright
man could scarcely be honoured by a greater.

" Well enough I knew that you would not
refuse ! " exclaimed Madame Berthemet, embracing
me. " But this is not all," she added. " You will
need to procure a second witness ; they demand
that two shall come forward if my brother is to be
released. Oh, my friend, what times we are living
in ! Monsieur de St. Ange keeps aloof from us ;
our misfortunes embarrass him ; and Monsieur

1 A person who had left France without a licence from the
Government. (TRANS.)

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 211

Mille would be afraid to visit folks under sus-
picion. Who would have thought it, my friend —
who would have thought it ? Do you remember
Federation Day ? We were all brimful of en-
thusiasm about fraternity, and 1 had on a very
becoming dress."

She was in tears when she left me. I descended
the stairs almost immediately after her to go in
search of a guarantor, and to tell the truth I was
considerably puzzled to put my hands on one. As
I bowed my head in my hands I realized that I
had a beard of eight days' growth, which might
render me an object of suspicion ; so I betook
myself at once to my barber's at the corner of the
Rue St. Guillaume. This barber was a very
worthy fellow named Larisse, as tall as a poplar and
as restless as an aspen. When I entered his shop
he was attending to a wine merchant of the neigh-
bourhood, who with his face smothered in lather
was pouring out all sorts of playful threats.

" Ah, my fine fellow, you dandifier of fine ladies,"
he was saying, "your head will be cut off and
stuck on the end of a pike to gratify your aristo-
cratic inclinations. Every enemy of the people
must add his quota to the basket,1 from the fat
Capet to the slim Larisse. And, fa irat so it will
be!"

1 The basket into which the heads of the guillotined fell. (TRANS.)

212 MOTHER OF PEARL

Monsieur Larisse, paler than moonshine and
fluttering like a leaf, observed the utmost precau-
tions as he shaved the chin of the abusive patriot.
I can affirm that never did barber experience greater
terror. And from this circumstance I drew a happy
augury for the success of the design I had suddenly
conceived. It was my intention, to be plain, to
ask Monsieur Larisse to accompany me before the
committee as the second guarantor.

" He is such a coward," I reflected, " that he
will never dare to protest."

The wine merchant withdrew muttering fresh
threats, and left me alone with the barber, who, still
trembling, fastened a napkin round my neck.

" Ah, monsieur ! " he whispered in my ear, in a
voice feebler than a sigh, "hell is let loose upon us !
Was it for the accommodation of demons like this
that I studied the art of hairdressing ? The heads
which did honour to my skill are now in London
or in Coblentz. How is Monseigneur le Due de
Puybonne ? He was a good master."

I informed him that the Duke was living in
London, and giving writing lessons. Indeed, the
Duke had managed recently to convey to me a
paper in which he told me that he was living,
perfectly contented, in London, on four shillings
and sixpence a day.

" It may be so," replied Monsieur Larisse, " but

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 213

in London hairdressing is not performed as it is
in Paris. The English can make constitutions, but
they don't know how to make wigs, and their
powder is not nearly white enough."

Monsieur Larisse soon had me shaven. I had
not a very harsh beard at that time. Scarcely had
he closed his razor than, seizing him by the wrist,
I said to him firmly—

" My dear Monsieur Larisse, you are a valiant
man ; you are coming with me before the General
Assembly of the Section des Postes in the one-time
church of St. Eustache. There you will bear
witness jointly with me that Monsieur Eustance
has never been an JmigrJ."

At these words Monsieur Larisse grew pale, and
murmured in inanimate tones —

"But I am not acquainted with Monsieur Eus-
tance."

" For that matter, neither am I," I replied.

Which was indeed strictly true. I had correctly
diagnosed the character of Monsieur Larisse. He
was dumbfounded. His very fear thrust him into
the perilous emprise. I took him by the arm and
he followed me unresistingly.

" But you are leading me to my death," he said
softly.

" To glory rather," I replied.

I don't know whether he was familiar with the

2i4 MOTHER OF PEARL

tragedians, but he was sensible of the honour and
appeared flattered. He had some knowledge of
literature, for loosing my arm to go into his back
shop, he said —

" A moment, dear sir ; let me at least put on my
best coat. In the olden times the victims were
decked with flowers. I find it recorded in the
Almanack for Honest Men"

From his chest of drawers he took a blue coat
which he flung round his long, mobile body. Thus
attired he accompanied me to the General Assembly
of the Section des Postes, which was sitting con-
tinuously.

On the threshold of the desecrated church, on
the door of which was inscribed the motto,
" Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death," Monsieur
Larisse felt the sweat break out on his forehead ;
nevertheless he went in. One of the citizens who
was sleeping there on a heap of empty bottles, half
aroused himself to inquire our business, and then
sent us on to the revolutionary committee of the
Section.

I knew this committee through having accom-
panied Monsieur Bcrthemet there on two occasions.
The president of it was a small lodging-house
keeper in the Rue de la Truanderie, whose most
regular customers were ladies of easy virtue.
Amongst the members there were an itinerant

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 215

knife-grinder, a porter, and a dyer and cleaner
named Bistac. It was with the knife-grinder that
we had to do. He was seated informally with his
sleeves turned up ; we found him a good-natured
fellow.

" Citizens," he said, " from the moment you
place before me an attestation in due form, I have
no objections to raise, because I am a magistrate and
consequently the proper formalities are all I de-
mand. I would only add one word. A man who
has intelligence and character ought not to be
authorized to leave Paris at a moment like this.
Because, you see, citizens "

He hesitated, and then, making use of gesture
to express his meaning, he stretched out his bare
and muscular arm and then moved it to his fore-
head, which he tapped with a finger, and continued —
" It is not of this alone" (here he indicated his arm,
the working tool) " that we have need, but of this
also " (here he motioned to his forehead, the seat of
intellect).

He then boasted of his natural gifts, and
lamented that his parents had not contrived to
give him any instruction. Then he set himself to
the task of signing our declaration. Despite his
good will this was a long process. Whilst, with
hands accustomed to the grindstone, he painfully
manipulated the pen, Bistac the cleaner came into

2i6 MOTHER OF PEARL

the room. Bistac had not the genial nature of the
grinder. His soul was all Jacobin. At sight of us
his forehead puckered and his nostrils swelled : he
scented the aristocrat.

" Who are you ? " he demanded of me.

" Pierre Aubier."

" Oh, oh ! Pierre Aubier, and I suppose you
flatter yourself that you will sleep in your own bed
to-night ? "

I put a cool face on the situation, but my com-
panion began to shudder in every limb. His bones
rattled so loudly that Bistac's attention was at-
tracted, and, forgetting me, he turned his scrutiny on
to poor Larisse.

" You have all the marks of a conspirator, in my
opinion," said Bistac in a terrible voice. "What is
your profession ? "

" A barber, at your service, citizen."

" All barbers are Feuillants ! "

Terror commonly inspired Monsieur Larisse to
the most courageous actions. He has since con-
fessed to me that at this moment he had all the
difficulty in the world to prevent himself from
shouting " Long live the King ! " As a matter of
fact, he did no such thing, but replied proudly that
he owed small thanks to the Revolution, which had
suppressed wigs and powder, and that he was tired
of living in a continual state of apprehension.

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 217

"Take off my head," he added. "I should
prefer to get my dying over, rather than to live in
constant fear."

Bistac became perplexed at talk like this.

Meanwhile, the knife-grinder, who was revolving
many confused but kindly thoughts in his brain,
recommended us to withdraw.

" Off with you, citizens," he said ; " but bear in
mind that the Republic has need of this."

And he pointed to his forehead.

Madame Berthemet's brother was released next
day. The mother of Amelie expressed abundance
of gratitude and embraced me — it was a way she
had. She did better.

" You have," said she, " acquired a right to the
gratitude of Amelie. I am desirous that my
daughter should herself come and express her in-
debtedness to you. She owes you an uncle. It is
less than a mother, it is true ; but what commenda-
tions does not your courage deserve. . . ."

She went in search of Amelie.

Left alone in the drawing-room, I waited. 1
asked myself whether I had the strength to see her
once more. I feared, I hoped. I died a thousand
deaths.

In about five minutes Madame Berthemet re-
appeared, alone.

" You must excuse an ungrateful girl," she said.

218 MOTHER OF PEARL

" My daughter refuses to come. ' I could not
endure his presence,' she declared. 'The sight of
him would be torture to me ; henceforth I hate
him. By showing greater courage than the man I
love, he has gained a cruel advantage. I will never
see him again while I live. He is generous : he
will forgive me.' '

After she had repeated this speech to me Madame
Berthemet concluded with these words :

" Forget the ungrateful child ! "

I promised to endeavour to do so, and I kept
my word. Events contributed to my success. The
Terror reigned. That appalling day, the 3ist of
May, snatched their last hopes from those of the
moderate party.

Several times I was denounced as a conspirator
on the score of the correspondence I maintained
with the Due de Puybonne, and I was continually
risking both liberty and life.

I had no longer a certificate of citizenship, and,
not daring to apply for one for fear of being
instantly put under arrest, my existence had be-
come unendurable.

There was a demand just then for twelve hundred
thousand men between the ages of eighteen and
twenty-five. I entered my name. On the yth of
Brumaire in the year II, at six o'clock in the morn-
ing, I set out on the way to Nancy to join my

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 219

regiment. With a forage cap on my head, a
knapsack on my back, and wearing the jacket called
a carmagnole, I felt myself fairly martial in appear-
ance.

From time to time I turned my gaze back on
the great city where I had suffered so much and
loved so profoundly. Then, wiping away a tear, I
resumed my journey. I decided to sing in order to
cheer myself up, and I began the hymn of the
Marscillais —

Allans, enfants de la Patrie !

At the first halting-place I presented my creden-
tials to some peasants, who sent me to pass the
night in the stable on the straw. There I enjoyed
a delicious sleep, and as I awakened I thought —

"Well, this is better. I am no longer in danger
of the guillotine. So far as I can judge, I am no
longer in love with Am61ie — or rather I never have
been in love with her. I am going to carry a
sword and a gun. I shall have nothing else to fear
but the Austrian bullets. Brindamour and Trom-
pelamort are right : there is no finer calling than
that of a soldier. But who would have dreamed
when I was studying Latin under the flowering
apple trees at Monsieur Lamadou's that one day I
should take arms in defence of the Republic? Ah!
Monsieur Feval, who could have foreseen that your
little pupil Pierre would march away to the wars?"

220 MOTHER OF PEARL

At the next halt a worthy woman put me to
sleep in white sheets because I reminded her of
her son.

The following day I lodged with a canoness who
put me in a loft open to the wind and rain, and
even this she did with a very perturbed mind, for a
defender of the Republic seemed to her so very near
to a dangerous species of brigand.

Finally, I came up with my corps on the banks of
the Meuse. I received a sword. At this I red-
dened with gratification, and felt myself at least a
foot taller. Do not laugh at me on that account ;
it was a case of vanity, I admit it ; but vanity
goes to the making of a hero. We were scarcely
fitted out before we received orders to start for
Maubeuge.

We arrived on the Sambre on a dark night.
Silence was all around. We could see fires flicker-
ing on the hills on the opposite side of the river.
I was told that they were the bivouacs of the
enemy. Then my heart thumped as if it would
burst.

It was from Titus Livy that I had got my ideas
of war. But I call you to witness, woods, meadows,
hills, banks of the Sambre and the Meuse, that
those ideas were delusive. War, such as I took part
in, consists of passing through burnt-up villages,
sleeping in the mire, listening to the whistle of

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER 221

bullets through the long and melancholy sentry
duty of nights ; but of single combats and ordered
battlefields I saw never a sign. We slept but little,
and did not eat at all. Floridor, my sergeant, an
old soldier of the French Guard, swore that the life
we were leading was festive ; he exaggerated, but
we were not unhappy, for we had the conscious-
ness of doing our duty and being useful to our
country.

We were justly proud of our regiment, which had
covered itself with glory at Wattignies. For the
greater part it was made up of soldiers of the old
regime ', stout and well instructed. As a large
number of men had perished in various engage-
ments, the gaps had been filled up anyhow with
youthful recruits. Without the veterans who
encircled us we should have been worth nothing.
It takes a good deal of time to make a soldier,
and in war enthusiasm is no substitute for expe-
rience.

My colonel was a one-time nobleman from my
native province. He treated me kindly. A life-
long Royalist, a countryman not a townsman, a
soldier not a courtier, he had long delayed ex-
changing the white coat of His Majesty's troops for
the blue coat of the soldiers of the year II. He
detested the Republic, and dedicated the remainder
of his life to it.

222 MOTHER OF PEARL

I bless Providence for having guided me to the
frontier, since there virtue still survives.

[Written in bivouac, on the Sambre, between
septidi the 2yth of Frimairc, and sextidi the 6th
of Nivose, in the year II of the French Republic, by
Pierre Aubier, volunteer.]

DAWN

TO MADEMOISELLE LEONIE BERNARDINI

DAWN

HE Cours-La-Reine was deserted.
The green banks of the Seine, the
ancient pollarded beeches whose
shadows began to stretch out towards
the east, the calm azure of the sky,
cloudless,breezeless,unthreatening but unsmiling, all
were wrapped in the deep silence that marks the sum-
mer day. A pedestrian coming from the Tuileries
made his way slowly towards the hills of Chaillot.
His figure was of the agreeable slightness character-
istic of early youth, and he wore the coat, breeches,
and black stockings indicative of the bourgeois,
whose supremacy had at length come round. Yet his
countenance was rather that of the dreamer than
of the enthusiast. He had a book in his hand ;
and his finger between the leaves marked the place
he had reached, but he had ceased to read. Now
and then he stopped and strained his ears to catch
the faint yet terrible murmur which rose up from
Paris, and in this muffled noise, feebler than a
sigh, he fancied he could distinguish cries of death
and hate, joy and love, drum-beats, the sound
Q 225

226 MOTHER OF PEARL

of firearms — all the din, in fact, of insensate fury
and sublime enthusiasm which ascends heavenward
from crowded streets at the outbreak of revolution.
At times he turned his head and shuddered. Every-
thing reported to him, everything he had seen and
heard for some hours past filled his brain with
confused and terrible pictures : the Bastille captured
by the people and already denuded of its battle-
ments ; the provost of the merchants' guild slain
by a pistol-shot in the midst of a furious crowd ;
the governor, the venerable de Launay, hewn down
on the steps of the Hotel de Ville ; the dreadful
populace, pale as famine or as deathly fear, drunken,
beside itself, dazed by the vision of blood and
glory, reeling from the Bastille to the Greve, and
above the heads of a hundred thousand deluded
people the bodies of the victims swinging from a
lamp-post, and the oak-crowned brow of one of the
exultant clad in a uniform of blue and white ; the
conquerors with the registers, the keys and the
silver plate belonging to the ancient fortress, mount-
ing amid acclamation the blood-stained steps ; and
at their head the popular magistrates La Fayette
and Bailly, overwrought, uplifted, amazed, their
feet dabbled in blood, their heads touching the.
clouds with pride I Then, fear still paramount
with the unleashed rabble, at the scattered noises
customarily attendant on the return of the Royal

DAWN 227

troops to the town at night, the tearing down of
the palace railings for conversion into pikes, the
pillage of the arsenals, the construction by the
citizens of street barricades, and the transportation
by the women to the roofs of houses of stones to
hurl down on the foreign regiments !

These scenes of violence were reconstructed in
his dreamy youthful imagination in subdued tones.
He had taken his favourite book, an English work
entited Meditations Among the Tombs, and made his
way along the Seine, under the trees of the Cours-
la-Reine, towards the white house which, night and
day, filled his thoughts. All was calm around him.
On the river bank he noticed the anglers sitting
with their feet in the water, and he followed the
course of the stream in an abstracted mood. When
he reached the slopes of the hills of Chaillot he
met a patrol party, keeping an eye on the com-
munications between Paris and Versailles. This
troop, armed with guns, muskets, and halberds,
included artisans wearing their aprons of leather or
serge, lawyers dressed in black, one priest, and a
bearded, bare-legged giant in a shirt. They chal-
lenged every would-be passer-by : communica-
tions between the Court and the governor of the
Bastille had been detected and a surprise was
feared.

But this pedestrian was young and of ingenuous

228 MOTHER OF PEARL

appearance. He had scarcely uttered a word or two
before the troop smilingly permitted him to con-
tinue his journey.

He ascended the slope of a lane odorous of
flowering elder, and stopped half-way up in front
of a garden gate. This garden was but little, but
by means of winding alleys and abrupt turns the
space for exercise was considerably extended. Into
a pool where ducks were disporting themselves,
willows dipped the tips of their branches. At the
corner by the street a light alcove had been con-
structed, and a grass plot spread its freshness in
front of the house. Here, on a rustic bench, with
her head bent, a young woman was seated ; her
face was hidden by a large straw hat wreathed with
natural flowers. Over her dress, which was of
white and rose colour, in stripes, she wore a fichu,
fastened at the waistline, this latter a trifle high,
giving the skirt an added length that was not
unbecoming. Her arms, encased in tight sleeves,
were at rest. A basket of an antique pattern, which
lay at her feet, held balls of wool. Close by her a
child was piling up heaps of sand with his shovel.
His blue eyes shone through a tangle of golden
hair.

The young woman remained motionless and, as
it were, spell-bound, and the young man standing at
the gate could not bring himself to break so sweet

DAWN 229

a spell. At length she raised her head and dis-
closed a youthful, almost infantile face, with pure
rounded lines which imparted a natural expression
of gentleness and friendliness. He bowed before
her, and she held out her hand.

" How do you do, Monsieur Germain ? What
is the news ? * What news do you bring with
you ?' as the song says. I don't know very much,
except songs."

"Pardon me, Madame, for having disturbed
your dreams. I was gazing at you. Alone,
motionless, your head resting on your hand, it
seemed as though you must be the angel of
meditation."

" Alone ! alone ! " she replied, as if this were the
only word she had heard. "Alone ! Is she ever
alone ?"

And seeing that he was looking at her uncom-
prehendingly, she added —

" Enough of that ! It is nothing but a fancy of
mine that What is your news ?"

Thereupon he went over the events of the
famous day, the taking of the Bastille, the founda-
tion of liberty.

Sophie listened to him gravely ; then she said —

" It is our duty to rejoice, but our joy should be
the austere joy which comes of sacrifice. Hence-
forth the French are their own men no longer ;

23o MOTHER OF PEARL

they are the servants of the Revolution which is
about to reform the world."

As she was speaking the child approached and
threw himself joyously across her knees.

"Look, mamma ! Look at my pretty garden !"

Embracing him, she said —

"You are right, little Emile, it is the wisest
thing in the world to lay out a pretty garden."

" Yes, he is right," added Germain ; " what
gallery glowing with porphyry and gold can be
compared with a green alley ?"

And reflecting how sweet it would be to give
this fair woman the support of his arm and lead
her to the shade of the trees —

"Ah !" he exclaimed, flashing a meaning glance
at her, " what are men and revolutions to me ! "

"No, no !" she rejoined, "I cannot so abruptly
turn my thoughts from a great people, intent on
inaugurating the reign of justice. My attachment
to the new ideas surprises you, Monsieur Germain.
We have only known one another for quite a brief
time. You are not aware, of course, that my
father taught me to read in the Social Contract and
the Gospels. One day, as we were walking, he
pointed out Jean Jacques Rousseau to me. I was
only a child, but I dissolved in tears at sight of the
gloomy countenance of the wisest of men. I grew
up a hater of prejudice. Later on my husband,

DAWN 231

like myself a disciple of the philosophy of nature,
decided that our son should be called Emile, and
that he should be taught to labour with his hands.
In his last letter, written three years ago on board
the ship upon which he perished some days after-
wards, he continues to urge on my attention
Rousseau's precepts upon education. I am satu-
rated with the new spirit of the age. It is my
conviction that we must struggle for justice and
truth."

" Like yourself, Madame," sighed Germain, " I
have a horror of fanaticism and tyranny ; like your-
self, I am in love with liberty, but my soul is
drained of its strength. At every moment my
thoughts escape my control. I am no longer
master of myself, and I suffer accordingly."

The young woman did not reply. An elderly
man pushed open the gate and came forward with
his arms raised, waving his hat. He wore neither
powder nor wig. A few long grey hairs fell down
on each side of his bald head. He wore a com-
plete suit of grey ratteen ; his stockings were blue
and his shoes buckleless.

" Victory ! victory ! " he cried. " The monster
is delivered into our hands, Sophie, and I am the
bearer of the news to you."

"Neighbour, I have just heard of it from
Monsieur Marcel Germain, whom I want to intro-

232 MOTHER OF PEARL

duce to you. His mother and mine were friends
at Angers. During the six months he has spent in
Paris he has been kind enough to come to see me
from time to time in the seclusion of my hermitage.
Monsieur Germain, this gentleman is my neigh-
bour and friend, Monsieur Franchot de La Cavanne,
a man of letters."

" Say rather, c Nicolas Franchot, labourer.' "

" I know, dear friend, that you thus signed your
treatise on the Corn Trade. I will say then, to
gratify you, although I expect your hands are much
more adroit with the pen than with the plough,
Monsieur Nicolas Franchot, labourer."

The older man grasped Marcel's hand and ex-
claimed—

" It has fallen, then, that fortress which has so
many times engulfed the wronged and the guiltless !
Those bolts behind which I passed eight months,
deprived both of air and light, have been torn
from their places. It was one-and-thirty years ago,
on the iyth of February, 1758, that I was cast
into the Bastille for having written an epistle on
tolerance. Now, to-day, at length the people have
avenged me. Right and I are triumphant together.
The memory of this day will remain so long as
the universe endures. I call as witness to it the
sun which saw Harmodius perish, and the brood
of Tarquin put to flight ! "

DAWN 233

The piercing voice of Monsieur Franchot fright-
ened little Emile, who clutched his mother's dress.
Franchot, suddenly becoming aware of the child's
presence, lifted him from the ground and said en-
thusiastically—

" Happier than we have been, dear child, you
will grow up free ! "

But Emile, terrified, turned his face away and
uttered loud cries.

" Gentlemen," said Sophie, as she wiped away
her little son's tears, "will you be so kind as to
stay to supper with me ? I am expecting Monsieur
Duvernay, provided he is not detained by the bed-
side of one of his patients."

Then turning towards Marcel —

" You must know that Monsieur Duvernay, the
king's physician, is an elector of Paris without the
walls. He would be a deputy of the National
Assembly if, like Monsieur de Condorcet, he had
not out of modesty declined the honour. He is
a man of great attainments, and it will be both
pleasant and profitable to you to hear him con-
verse."

" Young man," added Franchot, " 1 am acquainted
with Monsieur Jean Duvernay, and I know one
circumstance about him which does him honour.
Two years ago the queen summoned him to attend
on the Dauphin, who was threatened with decline,

234 MOTHER OF PEARL

At that time Duvernay was residing at Sevres,
whither one of the Court carriages was sent every
morning to convey him to Saint Cloud, where the
royal child lay ill. One day the carriage returned
to the palace empty. Duvernay had not come.
The following day the queen reproached him for
absenting himself.

" Doctor," she said, " you forgot your patient
the Dauphin, then ?"

" Madame," replied the worthy man, " 1 am
caring for your son assiduously, but yesterday I
was detained by the bedside of a peasant woman in
labour."

" Well now ! " remarked Sophie, " wasn't that
noble of him, and oughtn't we to be proud of our
friend ! "

" Yes ; it was fine," replied Germain.

A grave, sweet voice close beside them here
interposed —

" I do not know," said the voice, " what it is that
is exciting you to admiration ; but it is pleasant to
hear your transports. In these days there are so
many admirable deeds to be witnessed."

The man who spoke wore a powdered wig and a
delicate lace frill. It was Jean Duvernay. Marcel
recognized his face from the engravings he had seen
in the shops in the Palais Royal.

" I have just come from Versailles," said Duver-

DAWN 235

nay. " I owe to the Duke of Orleans the pleasure
of seeing you this memorable day, Sophie. He
brought me in his coach as far as Saint Cloud. The
rest of the way I travelled in the most convenient
fashion — I mean on my own feet."

And as a matter of fact, his silver-buckled shoes
and black stockings were covered all over with
dust.

Emile clung with his little hands to the steel
buttons which glittered on the doctor's coat, and
Duvernay, coaxing him on to his knee, found
material for smiles in glimpses at the little crea-
ture's budding soul. Sophie summoned Nanon. A
sturdy girl appeared, who picked up and carried
the child off in her arms, stifling beneath resound-
ing kisses his despairing cries.

The table was laid in the garden alcove. Sophie
hung her straw hat on a willow branch ; her fair hair
fell in curls about her cheeks.

" You will sup in the simplest possible way," she
said, " in the English fashion."

From the spot where they were seated they could
see the Seine, the roofs of the city, the domes and
the steeples. The spectacle rendered them as silent
as though they were looking out on Paris for the
first time. After a while they spoke of the occur-
rences of the day, of the Assembly, of universal
suffrage, of the breaking down of class barriers, and

236 MOTHER OF PEARL

Monsieur Necker's banishment. All four were
agreed that a lasting liberty was at length achieved.
Monsieur Duvernay foretold the rise of a new order,
and applauded the wisdom of the legislators popu-
larly elected. But his mind was not uplifted, and
at times it seemed as though his hopes were alloyed
with a certain uneasiness. Nicolas Franchot did
not observe the same moderation. He proclaimed
the peaceful triumph of the people and the era of
fraternity.

Vainly did the physician, vainly the young woman
assure him —

" It is only now that the struggle begins. We
are only as yet at our first victory."

" Philosophy is our ruler," he would reply.
" What benefits will not Reason shower on men who
accept her all potent sway ! The Golden Age which
the poets fabled will become a reality. All ills will
disappear with the fanaticism and tyranny which
gave them birth. The virtuous and enlightened
man will enjoy all possible felicity. What do I
say ? By the aid of physicians and chemists he
will even succeed in attaining immortality upon
earth."

Sophie listened to him, but shook her head.

" If you wish to deprive us of death," she said,
" find us first a fountain of youth. Without that
your immortality awakens my apprehension."

DAWN 237

The old philosopher laughingly asked her if she
found the Christian doctrine of resurrection more
comforting.

" For my part," he said, after emptying his glass,
" I am inclined to fear lest the angels and saints
should feel impelled to favour the choir of virgins
at the expense of the company of dowagers."

" I do not know," replied the young woman, in
a meditative tone and lifting her eyes to his, " I do
not know what value these poor charms, framed
out of the dust of the earth, may have in the eyes
of angels ; but I am sure that divine omnipotence
will be better able to repair the ravages of time, if
in so blissful an abode such redress should be need-
ful, than all your physics and your chemistry will
ever succeed in doing in this world. You, who are
an atheist, Monsieur Franchot, and do not believe
that God reigns in the heavens, you cannot under-
stand anything about the Revolution, which is the
advent of God upon earth."

She rose. Night had fallen, and in the distance
under their eyes the great town starred itself with
lights.

Marcel offered his arm to Scphie, and whilst the
older men argued with one another, the two saun-
tered together along the sombre alleys. Marcel
found them charming, and Sophie supplied him in
turn with their names and associations.

23 8 MOTHER OF PEARL

" Here," she said, " we are in the A116e de Jean
Jacques, which leads to the Salon d'Emile. This
alley was straight. I had it deflected so that it
should pass under the old oak. All day long it
gives shade to this rustic bench, which I have
called * Friendship's Rest.*

" We will sit down for a moment on this bench,"
said Sophie.

They sat down. In the silence Marcel could
hear the fluttering of his own heart.

" Sophie, I love you," he murmured, and cap-
tured her hand.

She drew it away gently, and pointing out to the
young man that a light breeze had set the leaves
rustling —

" Do you hear that ? " she said.

" I hear the wind among the leaves."

She shook her head, and said in tones as sweet
as a chant —

" Marcel, Marcel ! Who tells you that is the
wind among the leaves ? Who tells you that we
are alone ? Are you, then, after all, one of those
commonplace souls which have failed to discern
any of the mysterious portents of the world
unseen ? "

And as he questioned her with a glance that was
all bewilderment —

" Monsieur Germain," she said, " be so kind

DAWN 239

as to go upstairs to my room. You will
find a little book on the table, and bring it
to me . . ."

He obeyed. All the while he was absent the
young widow gazed at the dusky foliage shivering
in the night wind. He returned with a little gilt-
edged volume.

" The Idylls of Gesner ; yes, that is it," said
Sophie. " Open the book at the place where the
marker lies, and, if your eyes are good enough to
read by moonlight, read."

He read these words :

" Ah ! Often will my soul come to hover around
you ; often when, inflamed by a noble and sublime
thought, you are meditating in solitude, a light
breath will brush your cheek : at such a moment
may your soul be conscious of a gladdening
thrill! . . ."

She stopped him.

" Now do you understand, Marcel, that we are
never alone, and that there are words to which I
can never listen so long as a breath blown landward
from the sea shall set in motion the leaves of the
oaks."

The voices of the two older men drew near.

" God is Goodness," said Duvernay.

" God is evil," said Franchot, " and we shall
extinguish it."

24o MOTHER OF PEARL

Both of them, and Marcel also, took leave of
Sophie.

" Adieu, gentlemen," she said. " Let us all cry,
* Hurrah for Liberty, and long live the King ! '
And you, dear neighbour, do not hinder us from
dying when we shall need to die."

MADAME DE LUZY

TO MARCEL PROUST

MADAME DE LUZY

(From a manuscript dated September 15;^, 1792.)

I

S I entered, Pauline de Luzy held
out her hand to me. Then for a
moment we remained silent. Her
scarf and straw hat were thrown
carelessly on an arm-chair.
The prayer from Orpheus was open on the spinet.
Going towards the window, she watched the sun
sinking to the blood-red horizon.

" Madame," I said at length, " do you remember
the words you said two years ago this very day, at
the foot of that hill on the bank of the river towards
which at this moment your eyes are turned ?

" Do you remember how, with your hand waving
in a prophetic gesture, you called up before me, as
in a vision, the coming days of trial, of crime and
terror ? On my very lips you arrested my confes-
sion of love, and bade me live and labour for justice
and liberty. Madame, since your hand, which' 1

343

244 MOTHER OF PEARL

could not anoint with kisses and tears enough,
pointed out the way to me, 1 have pursued it un-
faltering. I have obeyed you ; I have written and
spoken for the cause. For two years I have with-
stood the blunder-headed starvelings who are the
source of dissension and hate, the demagogues who
seduce the people by violent demonstrations of pre-
tended sympathy, and the poltroons who do homage
to the coming powers."

She stopped me with a motion of her hand, and
made a sign to me to listen. Then we heard borne
across the scented spaces of the garden, where birds
were warbling, distant cries of " Death ! " " To the
gallows with the aristocrat ! " " Set his head on a
pike!"

Pale and motionless she held a finger to her
lips.

" It is," I said, " some unhappy wretch being
pursued. They are making domiciliary visits and
effecting arrests in Paris night and day. It is
possible they may force an entrance here. I
ought to withdraw for fear of compromising you.
Although I am but little known in this neighbour-
hood, I am, as times go, a dangerous guest."

" Stay ! " she adjured me.

For the second time cries rent the calm evening
air. They were mingled now with the tramp of
feet and the noise of fire-arms. They came nearer ;

MADAME DE LUZY 245

then we heard a voice shout : " Close the approaches,
so that he cannot escape, the scoundrel ! "

Madame de Luzy seemed to grow calmer in
proportion to the increasing nearness of the
danger.

" Let us go up to the second floor," she said ;
"we shall be able to see through the sunblinds
what is going on outside."

But scarcely had we opened the door when, on
the landing, we beheld a half-dressed fugitive, his
face blanched with terror, his teeth chattering and
his knees knocking together. This apparition mur-
mured in a strangled voice —

" Save me ! Hide me ! They are there. . . .
They burst open my gate — overran my garden.
They are coming. . . ."

II

gjADAME DE LUZY, recognizing
Planchonnet, the old philosopher
who occupied the neighbouring
house, asked him in a whisper —

" Has my cook caught sight of
She is a Jacobin ! *'
" Nobody has set eyes on me."
" God be praised, neighbour ! "
She led him into her bedroom, whither I followed
them. A consultation was necessary. Some hiding-
place must be hit upon where she could keep Plan-
chonnet concealed for several days, or at least for
several hours, whatever time it might take to de-
ceive and tire out the search party. It was agreed
that I should keep the approaches under observation,
and that when I gave the signal, the unfortunate
man should make his escape by the little garden gate.
Whilst he waited, he was unable to remain stand-
ing. He was completely paralysed with terror.

He endeavoured to make us understand that he
was being hounded down for having conspired
with Monsieur de Cazotte against the Constitu-

346

MADAME DE LUZY 247

tion, and for having on the loth of August formed
one of the defenders of the Tuileries — he, the
enemy of priests and kings. It was an infamous
calumny. The truth was that Lubin was venting
his hate upon him — Lubin, hitherto his butcher,
whom he had a hundred times had a mind to lay a
stick about to teach him to give better weight,
and who was now presiding over the section in
which he had formerly been a mere stallholder.

As he uttered the name in strangled tones, he
was persuaded that he actually saw Lubin, and hid
his face in his hands. And of a truth there was
the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Madame
de Luzy shot the bolts and pushed the old
man behind a screen. There was a hammering
at the door, and Pauline recognized the voice of
her cook, who called out to her to open, that the
municipal officers were at the gate with the National
Guard, and that they had come to make an inspec-
tion of the premises.

"They say," the woman added, "that Plan-
chonnet is in the house. I know very well that it
is not so, of course. I know you would never
harbour a scoundrel of that sort ; but they won't
believe my word."

" Well, well, let them come up," replied Madame
de Luzy through the door. "Let them go all
over the house, from cellar to garret."

248 MOTHER OF PEARL

As he listened to this dialogue, the wretched
Planchonnet fainted behind the screen, and I had
a good deal of trouble in resuscitating him by
sprinkling water on his temples. When I had
succeeded —

" My friend," the young woman whispered to
her old neighbour, " trust in me. Remember that
women are resourceful."

Then, calmly, as though she had been engaged in
some daily domestic duty, she drew her bedstead
a little out from its alcove, took off the bedclothes,
and with my assistance so arranged the three
mattresses as to contrive a space next the wall be-
tween the highest and the lowest of them.

Whilst she was making these arrangements, a
loud noise of shoes, sabots, gunstocks, and raucous
voices broke out on the staircase. This was for
all three of us a terrible moment ; but the noise
ascended by little and little to the floor above our
heads. We realized that the searchers, under the
guidance of the Jacobin cook, were ransacking the
garrets first. The ceiling cracked ; threats and
coarse laughter were audible, and the sound of
kicks and bayonet-thrusts against the wainscot. We
breathed again, but there was not a second to lose.
I helped Planchonnet to slip into the space con-
trived for him between the mattresses.

As she watched our efforts, Madame de Luzy

MADAME DE LUZY 249

shook her head. The bed thus disturbed had a
suspicious appearance.

She endeavoured to give it a finishing touch ;
but in vain, she could not make it look natural.

" I shall have to go to bed myself," she said.

She looked at the clock ; it was exactly seven,
and she felt that it would look extraordinary for her
to be in bed so early. As to feigning illness, it was
useless to think of it : the Jacobin cook would detect
the ruse.

She remained thoughtful for some seconds ;
then calmly, simply, with royal unconcern, she
undressed before me, got into bed, and ordered me
to take off my shoes, my coat, and my cravat.

"There is nothing for it but for you to be my
lover, and for them to surprise us together. When
they arrive you will not have had time to re-
arrange your disordered clothes. You will open
the door to them in your vest,1 with your hair
rumpled."

All our arrangements were made when the search
party, with many exclamations of " Sacrt ! " and
" Pestc ! " descended from the garrets.

The unfortunate Planchonnet was seized with
such a paroxysm of trembling that he shook the
whole bed.

1 The vest was worn under the coat. It was a sort of waistcoat,
longer than ours, and provided with sleeves of full length. (AUTHOR.)

250 MOTHER OF PEARL

Moreover, his breathing grew so stertorous that
it must have been almost audible in the corridor.

" It's a pity," murmured Madame de Luzy. " I
was so satisfied with my little artifice. But never
mind ; we won't despair. May God be our aid ! "

A heavy fist shook the door.

" Who knocks ? " Pauline inquired.

"The representatives of the Nation."

" Can't you wait a minute ? "

" Open, or we shall break the door down ! "

" Go and open the door, my friend."

Suddenly, by a sort of miracle, Planchonnet ceased
to tremble and gasp.

Ill

LJBIN was the first to enter. He
had his scarf round him, and was
followed by a dozen men armed
with pikes. Casting his eyes first on
Madame de Luzy and then on me —
"Peste!" he exclaimed. "It seems we are
disturbing a pair of lovers. Excuse us, pretty
one ! "

Then turning to his followers, he remarked —
" The sans-culottes are the only folks who know
how to behave."

But despite his theories this encounter had
evidently put him in good spirits.

He sat down on the bed, and raising the chin of
the lovely high-bred woman, said —

" It is plain that that pretty mouth wasn't made
to mumble paternosters day and night. It would
have been a pity if it were. But the Republic
before all things. We are seeking the traitor,
Planchonnet. He is here, I'm certain of it. I
must have him. I shall get him guillotined. It

will make my fortune."

251

252 MOTHER OF PEARL

" Search for him, then ! "

They looked under the chairs and tables, in the
cupboards, thrust their pikes under the bed, and
probed the mattresses with their bayonets.

Lubin scratched his ear and looked at me slily.
Madame de Luzy, dreading that I might be sub-
jected to an embarrassing catechism, said —

" Dear friend, you know the house as well as I do
myself. Take the keys and show Monsieur Lubin
all over it. I am sure you will be delighted to act
as guide to such patriots."

I led them to the cellars, where they turned over
the piles of faggots, and drank a fairly large number
of bottles of wine ; after which Lubin staved in
the full casks with, the butt end of his gun, and
leaving the cellar flooded with wine, gave the
signal of departure. I conducted them out as far
as the gate, which 1 shut on their very heels, and
then ran back to let Madame de Luzy know that
we were out of danger.

When she heard this, she bent her head over the
side of the bed next the wall, and called —

" Monsieur Planchonnet ! Monsieur Planchon-
net ! "

A faint sigh was the response.

" God be praised ! " she exclaimed. " Monsieur
Planchonnet, you occasioned me the most appalling
fear. I thought you were dead.'*

MADAME DE LUZY 253

Then turning towards me —

" My poor friend, you used to take so much
delight in declaring, from time to time, that you
loved me ; you will never tell me so again ! "

THE BOON OF DEATH BESTOWED

TO ALBERT TOURNIER

THE BOON OF DEATH BESTOWED

HEN he had for a long while tramped
through the deserted streets, Andr6
at last went and sat down on the
bank of the Seine and watched the
water lapping the base of the hill
where, in the vanished days of joy and hope,
Lucie, his dear mistress, had her home.

For long enough he had not felt so restful.
At eight o'clock he took a bath. Then he strolled
into a restaurant in the Palais Royal, and glanced
through the newspapers whilst his meal was pre-
paring. In the Courier of Equality he read the list
of the condemned prisoners who had been executed
on the Place de la Revolution on the 24th of
Floreal.

He ate his breakfast heartily. Then he rose,
looked in a glass to make sure that he was present-
ably dressed, and that his colour was not likely
to betray him, and set out at an easy pace to the
other side of the river towards the low house at the
corner of the Rue de Seine and the Rue Mazarine.
Here were the quarters of Citizen Lardillon, deputy
s 257

258 MOTHER OF PEARL

public prosecutor at the revolutionary tribunal, a
man well disposed towards Andr£, who had known
him first as a capuchin at Angers, and later as a
sans-culotte in Paris.

He rang, and after an interval of some few
minutes, a figure appeared behind a grating com-
manding the entrance, and Citizen Lardillon, having
prudently satisfied himself as to the appearance and
name of his visitor, at length threw open the door.
His face was broad, his colour high, his eyes glitter-
ing, his lips moist, and his ears red. He looked a
jovial but worried man. He led Andr6 into his
ante-chamber.

There, on a small round table, a meal for two was
set out. There was a chicken, a pie, a ham, a
terrine of foie-gras and various cold meats in aspic.
On the floor six bottles were cooling in a pail. A
pineapple, cheese of various kinds, and preserved
fruits occupied the mantelpiece, and flasks of
liqueurs were deposited on a desk littered with
papers.

Through the half-open door of the adjoining
room a large bed was visible, not yet made.

" Citizen Lardillon," began Andre", " I have come
to beg a favour of you."

" I am quite ready to grant it, citizen, provided
it involves no risk to the security of the Republic."

Andr£ smilingly replied —

THE BOON OF DEATH BESTOWED 259

"The service I ask you to do me is not in the
least compromising to the safety of either the
Republic or yourself."

At a sign from Lardillon, Andre sat down.
" Citizen deputy," he said, " you are aware that for
the last two years I have been conspiring against
your friends, and that I am the author of the
pamphlet entitled, The Altars of Fear. You will
not be doing me a favour in having me arrested.
You will only be doing your duty. Moreover, that
is not the service I ask at your hands. But listen:
my mistress, to whom I am devoted, is in prison."

Lardillon nodded his head to indicate that he
approved of the devotion Andre confessed to.

" I am sure that you are not unfeeling, Citizen
Lardillon. I beg you to procure my reunion with
the woman I love, and to have me conveyed to
Port Libre as speedily as may be."

" Come, come," said Lardillon, and a smile
played upon his lips, which were both delicate and
firm, " it is a greater boon than life that you
demand of me. You require me to bestow happi-
ness on you, citizen ! "

He stretched out the arm nearest to the bed-
room, and called —

" Epicharis ! Epicharis ! "

A big, dark woman entered, her arms and throat
still bare, for she had only got as far with her

260 MOTHER OF PEARL

toilette as a chemise and petticoat, though a cockade
was fastened in her hair.

" Nymph of mine," said Lardillon as he drew
her on to his knees, " look upon the face of this
citizen, and never forget it ! Like us, Epicharis,
he is tender-hearted ; like us, he realizes that the
greatest of ills is to be separated from the beloved
one. He wishes to go to prison — ay, to the
guillotine — with his mistress, Epicharis. Can I
withhold this boon from him ? "

" No ! " answered the girl, as she tapped the
checks of the carmagnole-clad monk.

" You are right, my goddess. We shall be
earning the gratitude of two devoted lovers.
Citizen Germain, give me your address, and this
very night you shall sleep in the Bourbe."

" That is agreed ? " said Andre.

" That is agreed," replied Lardillon as he offered
him his hand. " Go and find your fair friend, and
tell her how you saw Epicharis in Lardillon's
embrace. I trust that that recollection may stir
your hearts to joyous measures."

Andre replied that possibly they would be able
to call up even more affecting memories, but that
he was none the less grateful to Lardillon, and
that he only regretted that it was not likely to
be in his power to be of service to him in
return.

THE BOON OF DEATH BESTOWED 261

" A humane action needs no recompense," replied
Lardillon.

Then he rose, and clasping Epicharis to his heart,
said—

" Who knows when our own turn may come ? "

Omnfs eodem cogimur : omnium
Versatur urna ; serius ocius
Sors exitura, et nos in sternum
Exilium impositura cytnb*.1

" In the meanwhile, let us drink ! Citizen, will
you join us at table ? "

Epicharis said it would only be polite of him,
and made to seize him by the arm. But he tore
himself away, relying on the promise the deputy
public prosecutor had made.

1 We all must tread the paths of Fate,
And ever shakes the mortal Urn,
Whose Lot embarks us, soon or late,
On Charon's Boat, ah ! never to return.

FRANCIS'S Horace.

A TALE OF THE MONTH OF
FLOREAL IN THE YEAR II

TO MADEMOISELLE JEANNE CANTEL

A- TALE OF THE MONTH OF
FLOREAL IN THE YEAR II

I

HE turnkey had shut the door of the
house of detention upon her who was
formerly known as the Comtesse
Fanny d'Avernay, whose arrest is
described in the gaol register as a
step taken "in the interests of public safety,"
though her actual crime was that she had given
shelter to enemies of the Government.

And now she is actually within the venerable
edifice in which, once upon a time, the recluses of
Port Royal indulged their craving for solitude and
community life combined, and out of which it was
easy to contrive a prison without making any struc-
tural change.

Seated on a bench whilst the registrar enters her
name, she thinks —

" Ah, God, why are these things permitted ; and
what more do You demand of me ? "

The turnkey's aspect is rather surly than evil,
265

266 MOTHER OF PEARL

and his daughter, who is pretty, looks enchanting
in her white cap, with cockade and knot of ribbons
in the national colours. By this turnkey Fanny is
conducted to a large courtyard, in the middle of
which grows a fine acacia. There she will wait
till he has prepared a bed and a table for her
in a room which already contains five or six
prisoners, for the house is crowded. Vainly each
day is the overplus of tenants led to the revolu-
tionary tribunal and the guillotine. Each day anew
the committees fill up the gaps thus created.

In the courtyard Fanny catches sight of a young
woman busy cutting a device of initials on the bark
of the tree, and at once recognizes Antoinette
d'Auriac, a friend of her childhood.

" What, you here, Antoinette ? "

" And you, Fanny ? Get them to put your bed
by the side of mine. We shall have countless
things to tell one another."

" Yes, numbers of things. . . . And Monsieur
d'Auriac, Antoinette ? "

" My husband ? Upon my word, my dear, I
had rather forgotten him. It is unfair on my part.
To me he has always been irreproachable. ... I
fancy that at the present moment he is in prison
somewhere or other."

"And what were you doing just now, Antoi-
nette?"

THE MONTH OF FLOREAL 267

" Pooh ! . . . What o'clock is it ? If it's five,
the friend whose name I was interlacing on the
bark there with my own has ceased to exist, for
at midday he was haled away to the revolutionary
tribunal. His name was Gesrin, and he was a
volunteer in the army of the North. I made his
acquaintance here in the prison. We passed some
agreeable hours together at the foot of this tree.
He was a worthy young fellow. . . . But I must
set about making you feel at home, my dear."

And seizing Fanny by the waist, she carried her
off to the room where she herself slept, and obtained
the turnkey's promise not to part her from her
friend.

They decided that the following morning they
would join forces in washing the floor of their
room.

The evening meal, meagrely provided by a
patriotic eating-house keeper, was served in com-
mon. Each prisoner brought his plate and his
wooden cover (metal covers were not allowed), and
received his portion of pork and cabbage. At that
coarse repast Fanny met women whose gaiety
astonished her. As in the case of Madame d'Auriac,
their headdresses were scrupulously arranged and
they wore unimpeachable costumes. Though death
was in sight, they had not lost the womanly desire
to please. Their conversation was as gallant as their

268 MOTHER OF PEARL

persons, and Fanny was soon abreast of the love
affairs which were knit and unknit in these gloomy
courtyards where death lent a keener edge to love.
Then, overcome with an indescribable agitation, she
was seized with a great longing to clasp another
hand in her own.

She called to mind the man who loved her, to
whom she had never yielded herself, and a pang of
regret, cruel as remorse, rent her heart. Tears as
scalding as tears of passion coursed down her
cheeks. By the light of the smoky lamp which lit
up the table she took note of her companions,
whose eyes glittered with fever, and she thought —

" We are condemned to die, all of us. How is
it that I am sad and perturbed in spirit, whilst for
these women life and death are equally a matter of
no concern ? "

And all night she wept upon her pallet.

II

WENTY long monotonous days have
passed heavily by. The courtyard
where the lovers were wont to go in
search of quiet and shade is deserted
this evening. Fanny, stifled in the
moist air of the corridors, has just, sat down on the
mound of turf which encircles the base of the old
acacia that gives the courtyard its shade. The
acacia is in flower, and the breeze passing through
its branches emerges charged with the heavy
perfume. Fanny catches sight of a scrap of paper
fastened to the bark of the tree underneath the
device which Antoinette traced there. On this
paper she reads some verses by the poet Vigee,
like herself a prisoner.

Here hearts, from taint of treason free,
Calm victims were of calumny.
Thanks to the shade outspread above
They banished grief in dreams of love.
It heard their sighs and tender fears,
They oft bedewed it with their tears.
269

270 MOTHER OF PEARL

You, whom a time less menacing

Shall to this bare enclosure bring,

Spare yet awhile the kindly tree

Which anguish quelled, and strength upheld,

And half bestowed felicity.1

After reading these lines, Fanny relapsed into a
thoughtful mood. She mentally reviewed her life,
calm and even, her loveless marriage, the state of
her own mind, interested in music and poetry, in-
clined to friendship, sober, untroubled ; and then
she thought of the love lavished on her by a gallant
gentleman, which had wrapped her in its protective
folds, yet been accepted unresponsively, as she was
better able to realize in the silence of her prison.
And, recognizing that she was about to die, she
broke down. A sweat of mortal agony rose to her
forehead. In her anguish she raised her burning

1 Ici des coeurs exempts de crimes,
Du soupcon, dociles victimes,

Grace aux rameaux d'un arbre protecteur,

En songeant a Tumour oubliaient leur douleur.

II fut le confident de leurs tendres alarmes ;

Plus d'une fois il fut baigne de larmes.

Vous, que des temps moins vigoureux
Ameneront dans cette enceinte,

Respectez, protegez cet arbre genereux.

II consolait la peine, il rassurait la crainte ;

Sous son feuillage on fut heureux.

THE MONTH OF FLOREAL 271

eyes to the star-strewn sky, and wringing her hands
murmured —

" Ah, God, give back to me one little gleam of
hope ! "

At this moment a light footstep approached. It
was Rosine, the turnkey's daughter, coming for a
surreptitious talk with her.

" Citizeness," the pretty girl said to her, " to-
morrow evening a man who loves you will be
waiting on the Avenue dc 1'Observatoire with a
carriage. Take this parcel ; it contains clothes like
those I am wearing ; during supper you will put
them on in your bedroom. You are of the same
height and fair colouring as myself. In the dusk
we might easily be taken one for the other. A
warder who is in love with me, and who has
engaged in the plot with us, will come up to your
room and bring you the basket which I take when
I go marketing.

"With him you will descend the staircase (of
which he carries a key) leading to my father's
lodge. On that side of the prison the outer gate
is neither locked nor guarded. You will only
have to avoid being seen by my father. My lover
will place himself with his shoulder against the
little window of the lodge and say, as if he were
talking to me : * Au revoir, Citizeness Rose, and
don't be so mischievous 1 ' You will then go quietly

272 MOTHER OF PEARL

into the street. Whilst this is going on I shall
leave by the main gate, and we shall join one
another in the carriage which is to carry us
away."

As she listened to these words, Fanny drank in
the breath of spring and reawakening nature.
With the whole energy of her being, palpitating
with life, she longed for liberty. She could per-
ceive, could taste the safety that was within her
grasp. And as into the same draught was distilled
an aroma of love, she clasped her hands on her
breast to restrain her happiness. But, little by
little, consideration, a powerful factor in her
character, got the better of sentiment. She
gazed steadily on the turnkey's daughter, and
said —

"Why is it, dear child, that you are prepared
to devote yourself in this way to the interests of
one whom you scarcely know ? "

"Oh," replied Rose, this time forgetting to use
the familiar form of speech she had been employ-
ing hitherto, " it's because your kind friend will
give me a large sum of money as soon as you are
free, and then I shall be able to marry Florentin,
my lover. You see, citizeness, that I am working
entirely in my own interests. But I am better
pleased to be the means of rescuing you than one
of the others."

THE MONTH OF FLOREAL 273

" I thank you for that, my child, but why the
preference ? "

"Because you are so dainty, and your good
friend must be so weary of being separated from
you. It is agreed, isn't it ? "

Fanny stretched out her hand to take the parcel
of clothes Rose was offering her.

But immediately afterwards she drew it back.

" Rose, do you realize that if we are discovered
it would mean death to you ? "

" Death 1 " exclaimed the young girl. " You
terrify me. Oh, no, I didn't know that ! "

Then, as quickly reassured —

" But, citizeness, your kind friend would manage
to hide me."

" There isn't a spot in Paris that would prove a
safe hiding-place. I thank you for your devotion,
Rose ; but I can't take advantage of it."

Rose stood as if thunderstruck.

"But you will be guillotined, citizeness, and I
shall not be able to marry Florentin ! "

" Be easy, Rose. I can do you a service al-
though I can't accept what you offer."

" Oh, no, no ! It would be cheating you out of
your money."

The turnkey's daughter begged and prayed and
wept for long enough. She went on her knees and
raised the hem of Fanny's skirt.

274 MOTHER OF PEARL

Fanny gently pushed the girl's hand away and
turned her head aside. A moonbeam displayed
the peacefulness of the fair face.

It was a lovely night, and a light breeze was
moving. The prisoners' tree shook its perfumed
branches and scattered its wan flowers upon the
head of the voluntary victim.

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER

TO MADAME GASTON MEYER

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER

HAT particular night the fever in-
duced by influenza prevented me
from sleeping, and presently I heard
very distinctly three smart taps on
the glass door of a cabinet at the side
of my bed, a cabinet in which I kept in an inex-
tricable medley little figures in Dresden china or
biscuit of Sevres, terra-cotta statuettes from Tan-
agra or Myrina, little Renaissance bronzes, Japanese
ivory carvings, Venetian glass, Chinese cups, boxes
in Vernis Martin, lacquer trays, enamel caskets — in
fact, a thousand nothings which a kind of fetish
worship causes one to treasure, and which have the
power of reviving memories of bygone hours,
both gay and melancholy. The taps were faint but
perfectly unmistakable, and by the light of the
nightlight I perceived that they proceeded from a
little leaden soldier installed amid the contents of
the cabinet, who was making efforts to regain his
liberty. He was successful, for soon beneath the
weight of his fist the glazed door swung wide
open. To tell the truth, I was not sc surprised as

277

278 MOTHER OF PEARL

might be expected. To my mind that little soldier
had always worn a suspicious appearance. And

during the two years since Madame G. M had

given him to me, I had been prepared for all sorts
of impertinences from him. His uniform is blue
turned up with red ; he is a Garde franfaise, and
it is common knowledge that that regiment was
not remarkable for discipline.

"Ho, there!" I called out. "What's your
name, La Fleur, Brindamour, La Tulipe ! can't you
make less noise and let me sleep in peace ? I am
anything but well."

The rascal replied with a growl :

" I haven't changed much, my good man, since I
took the Bastille, a hundred years back. On top of
that a good many cans of good liquor were emptied.
I doubt if many leaden soldiers of my age are still
in existence. Good night to you. I am off to
parade."

" La Tulipe," I replied with severity, " your
regiment was disbanded by order of Louis XVI on
the 3 ist of August, 1789. There is no longer any
reason for you to attend parade. Stay where you
are in the cabinet ! "

La Tulipe twirled his moustache, and then,
throwing a sly glance of contempt in my direction,
retorted :

" What ! do you mean to say you don't know

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER 279

that every year on the night of the 3ist of Decem-
ber, when the children are asleep, our great review
takes place, and the leaden soldiers march in pro-
cession over the roofs and between the chimneys
still joyfully pouring forth the smoke arising from
the dying embers of the Yule log ? It's a desperate
charge, and many a rider takes part in it with
never a head on his shoulders. The shades of all
the leaden soldiers who have fallen in battle pass
by in the rage of combat. Nothing but bent bayo-
nets and broken swords is to be seen. And the
spirits of dead dolls, all ashen-faced in the moon-
beams, watch them as they go by."

This harangue put me in a quandary.

" Come now, La Tulipe, you mean to say it is a
custom, a solemn custom ? I have the profoundest
respect for all ancient customs and usages, tradi-
tions, legends, and popular beliefs. That is what
we call folk-lore — a subject we find a great deal of
amusement in studying. La Tulipe, it is a great
satisfaction to me to learn that you are an
observer of tradition. On the other hand, I am
not at all sure that I ought to let you leave that
cabinet."

" Indeed you ought," said a clear musical voice
which I had not heard before, but which I instantly
recognized for that of the young woman from
Tanagra, who, wrapped in the folds of her hima-

280 MOTHER OF PEARL

tion, occupied a place next to the Garde franf aisey
on whom she looked down from the graceful
dignity of her superior stature. " Indeed you
ought. All customs handed down to us by our
ancestors are equally worthy of respect. Our
fathers knew better than we what is permissible
and what forbidden, for they were nearer to the
gods. It is only proper, then, to allow this Gala-
tian to perform the warlike rites of his ancestors.
In my time they did not wear a ridiculous blue
dress turned up with red like our friend here.
Their only covering was their buckler. And we
held them in great awe. They were barbarians.
You yourself are just as much of a Galatian and
barbarian. It is all in vain that you have read the
poets and historians : you have no true conception
of the beauty of life. You were not in the market-
place when I used to be spinning wool from
Miletus in the courtyard of the house, under the
old mulberry tree."

I compelled myself to answer with moderation —
" Lovely Pannychis, your insignificant Greek
folk conceived certain forms so beautiful that the
eyes and hearts of the judicious will never tire of
them. But every day in your market-place such a
quantity of drivel was babbled as would give occu-
pation to one of our municipal councils for a whole
session. I have no regrets at never having been a

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER 281

citizen of Larissa or Tanagra. At the same time I
admit that what you have said is reasonable. It is
fitting that customs should be maintained, other-
wise they would cease to be customs. Fair Panny-
chis, who didst spin wool from Miletus under the
ancient mulberry tree, not in vain have you assailed
my ears with words of good counsel ; for on your
advice I give La Tulipe permission to go whither-
soever folk-lore may call him."

Then a little dairymaid in biscuit of Sevres, her
hands resting on her churn, turned towards me with
glances of entreaty.

" Monsieur, do not let him go. He has promised
to marry me. He falls in love with every woman
he meets. If he goes, I shall never set eyes on
him again."

And, hiding her plump cheeks in her apron, she
began to weep uncontrollably.

La Tulipe had grown as red as the trimmings of
his coat : he could not endure scenes, and he found
it extremely distasteful to listen to reproaches which
he had richly merited. I reassured my little dairy-
maid as well as I could, and begged my Garae
franfaise on no account to loiter about after the
review in some Circe's grot. He promised, and I
said good-bye to him. But he made no attempt to
start. It was extraordinary, but he remained per-
fectly still on his shelf, as motionless as the dainty

282 MOTHER OF PEARL

trifles surrounding him. I let him perceive my
surprise.

" Patience ! " he exclaimed. " I cannot set out
under your very eyes in that fashion, without
infringing every law of the occult world. When
you have gone to sleep I shall make off easily
enough on a moonbeam, for I am full of expedients.
But there is no great hurry, and I can still wait
another hour or two. We have nothing better to
amuse us than conversation. How would you like
me to tell you some tale of days gone by ? I know
plenty such."

" Yes, tell us one," said Pannychis.

" Tell us one," said the dairymaid.

" Go ahead, then, La Tulipe," said I in my turn.

He sat down, filled his pipe, asked for a glass
of beer, coughed, and began his tale with these
words : —

THE LEADEN SOLDIER'S STORY

Ninety-nine years ago to the very day, I was
standing on a round table with a dozen of my com-
rades, all of them as like me as if they had been
my brothers. Some were standing, some lying
down, several had sustained injuries to the head or
legs : we were the heroic remnant of a box of
leaden soldiers bought the previous year at the fair
of Saint Germain. The room was hung with pale

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER 283

blue silk. It contained a spinet with the Prayer
from Orpheus open upon it, a few chairs with lyre-
shaped backs, a lady's escritoire of mahogany, a
white bed decked with roses ; and all along the
cornice were perched pairs of doves. Everything
combined to convey an impression of affecting
charm. The lamp diffused its soft light, and the
flame on the hearth quivered like wings beating in
the dusk. Clad in a dressing-gown, and seated in
front of her escritoire, her delicate neck bending
beneath the circling masses of her magnificent fair
hair, Julie was turning over the letters tied up with
ribbons, which had lain hidden in the drawers of
the bureau.

Midnight strikes ; the outward sign of the im-
aginary leap from one year to another. The dainty
timepiece, on which is poised a laughing, golden
Cupid, proclaims that the year 1793 has come to
an end.

Just as the hands of the clock meet, a small
phantom figure makes its appearance. Through
a door which stands half open, a pretty child has
crept out of the dressing-room, where he has his
bed, and run in his nightshirt to fling himself into
his mother's arms and wish her a happy new year.

" A happy new year, Pierre ? . , . Ah ! thank
you, thank you ! But do you know what a happy
year is ? "

284 MOTHER OF PEARL

He thought he did ; but, all the same, she wished
to make quite sure that he knew.

"A year is happy, my darling, when it passes
on its way bringing us neither hatreds nor fears."

She embraces him ; then she carries him back to
the bed he has escaped from, and then returns to
her seat in front of the escritoire. She glances
first at the flames leaping on the hearth, and then
at the letters from which dried flowers are falling.
It is heartrending to have to burn them. Yet it
must be done. For these letters, if they were dis-
covered, would consign to the guillotine both him
who wrote them and her who received them. If
it was only herself that was in danger, she would
not burn them, so weary is she of her contest for
life with the executioners. But she thinks of him,
proscribed, denounced, pursued, hidden away in
some garret at the other end of Paris. A single
one of these letters would be enough to put his
pursuers on his track and deliver him over to
death.

Pierre is sleeping snugly in the neighbouring
dressing-room ; the cook and Nanon have gone to
their rooms in the upper regions. The intense
silence of a snow-clad town reigns all around.
The keen, clear air brightens the flame on the
hearth. Julie has made up her mind to burn these
letters, and it is a task she cannot carry out — how

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER 285

well she knows it ! — without recalling events of
the profoundest sadness. She will burn the letters,
but not until she has read them through once
again.

The letters are all arranged in succession, for
Julie imparts to everything around her a measure
of the orderliness which is natural to her.

These, already growing yellow, date from three
years ago, and in the silence of the night Julie
lives over again the magic hours. Not a single
page is surrendered to the flames until she has
conned it over at least ten times, syllable by
treasured syllable.

The stillness all around her is unbroken. From
time to time she goes to the window, raises the
curtain, glances through the oppressive gloom at
the tower of Saint Germain des Pres silvered by
the moon, and then resumes her slow labours of
pious destruction. Why should she not for the
last time rejoice over these delicious pages ? Why
deliver to the flames these cherished lines ere she
has for ever imprinted them on her heart. Still-
ness prevails everywhere, and her spirit leaps with
youth and love.

She reads —

"Though absent, I behold you, Julie. I go on
my way, surrounded by images which my mind
conjures up. I behold you, not cold and unnerved,

286 MOTHER OF PEARL

but alive, animated, ever changing, yet ever perfect.
Around you in my dreams I gather the most
gorgeous spectacles the world can yield. How
happy is Julie's lover ! He finds charms in all
things, since in all things he finds her. In loving
her it is life he loves ; he marvels at this world
which she irradiates ; he treasures this earth which
she adorns. Love unveils to him the hidden
mystery of things. He apprehends the infinite
forms of creation ; they all display to him symbojs
of Julie ; he hears the unnumbered voices of
nature ; they all murmur in his ear the name of
Julie. He plunges his gaze rapturously into the
inmost heart of the daylight, with the thought that
that fortunate light bathes also the countenance of
Julie, and casts as it were a divine caress on the
loveliest of human forms. This evening the earliest
stars will thrill his being ; he will say : * Perhaps
at this very moment she too is gazing on them.'
He inhales her in all the odours borne on the air.
He desires to kiss the very ground she treads
on. . . .

" My Julie, if I am fated to fall beneath the axe
of the persecutor, and like Algernon Sidney to die
for liberty, death itself will be unable to restrain
my indignant ghost in the land of shades which
holds not you. I shall fly to you, my beloved.
Often will my spirit return to hover around you."

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER 287

She reads and dreams. Night is coming to a close.
Already a pallid light pierces the curtains : it is
morning. The servants have begun their work.
She must finish her own. Has she caught the
sound of voices ? No ; all around her is silence,
still. . . .

Yes, all around is silence, for the snow deadens
the tramp of feet. They are coming ; they halt
outside. Blows fall heavily on the door.

She has not time to hide the letters, to close the
escritoire. All she can do she does ; she takes
the papers in armfuls and throws them under-
neath the sofa, the valance of which touches the
floor ; a few letters are scattered on the carpet ; she
pushes them under with her foot, seizes a book, and
flings herself into a chair.

The president of the district enters, followed by
a dozen of his pikemen. He is an elderly chair-
caner named Brochet, who shivers with ague, and
whose bloodshot eyes roam in an unspeakably
loathsome fashion.

He makes a sign to his men to keep guard over
the approaches, and then turning to Julie, an-
nounces—

"We have just received information, citizeness,
that you are in correspondence with the agents of
Pitt, and with emigres and conspirators in the
prisons. In the name of the law, I am here to take

288 MOTHER OF PEARL

possession of your papers. It is now some time since
you were pointed out to me as an aristocrat of the
most dangerous type. Citizen Rapoix, whom you see
before you" (here he indicated one of his followers),
"has confessed that in the severe winter of 1789,
you gave him both money and clothes with a view
to corrupting him. Magistrates of a timid tendency
and wanting in patriotism have shown you leniency
over long. But I am master now, in my turn, and
you shall not escape the guillotine. Deliver up
your papers, citizeness ! "

" Take them yourself," said Julie ; " my escri-
toire is unlocked."

There still remained in the drawers certain
certificates of births, marriages, and deaths, trades-
men's bills, and title-deeds, which one by one
Brochet examined. He fumbled with them, and
laid them aside with the suspicious air of a man
who reads but poorly, and from time to time
exclaimed : " Scandalous ! The name of the so-
called king is not effaced. Scandalous, scandalous,
I call it ! "

From his manner Julie concludes that his visit
will be lengthy and scrupulous. She cannot resist
taking a furtive glance at the side of the sofa, and
she sees at once the corner of a letter peeping out
from under the valance like the white ear of a cat.
At this sight her agony vanishes suddenly. The

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER 289

certainty that she is lost brings back to her a quiet
assurance, and her face takes on a calm indis-
tinguishable from an expression of complete
security. She has no doubt that the men will
observe this scrap of paper so patent to her own
eyes. Its whiteness on the red carpet positively
screams at her. But she cannot guess whether
they will discover it at once or whether some time
must first elapse. This doubt occupies and dis-
tracts her mind. At this tragic moment she in-
dulges in a sort of joke with herself as she watches
the patriots moving further away from or nearer to
the sofa.

Brochet, who has finished with the papers in the
escritoire, becomes impatient, and declares that he
will certainly find what he has come in search of.

He overthrows the furniture, turns the pictures
round, and .raps the panelling with the pommel
of his sword to detect hiding-places. He can dis-
cover nothing. He smashes a panel of looking-
glass to see if anything is concealed behind it.
There is nothing.

Whilst this is going on his men raise some of
the squares of parquet. They declare with oaths
that a beggarly aristocrat is not going to have the
laugh of honest sans-culottes. But never one of
them espies the little white wisp which peeps from
under the valance of the sofa.

290 MOTHER OF PEARL

They march Julie into the other rooms of the
suite and demand all her keys. They burst open
the cupboards, shiver the windows to splinters,
smash up the chairs, drag the stuffing from the
upholstery. And they find nothing.

Still Brochet is not yet despondent ; he returns
to the bedroom.

" In God's name ! the papers are here ; I'm
certain of it ! "

He examines the sofa, declares that it has a
suspicious appearance, probes it five or six times
with his sword from end to end. Still he finds no
traces of what he seeks, utters a horrible oath, and
gives his men orders to depart.

He is already at the door, when, returning a
step or two towards Julie, he raises his fist and
shouts —

" Live in dread of my return ! I am the sove-
reign people ! "

And he goes out, last of all.

At length all are gone. She hears the clatter
of their tread grow fainter on the staircase. She
is saved ! Her imprudence has not betrayed him —
him whom she loves ! She runs, with a jubilant
little laugh, to embrace the tiny Pierre, who is
sleeping with his fists clenched, just as though
everything round his cradle had not been turned
upside down.

THE LITTLE LEADEN SOLDIER 291

When he had finished his tale, La Tulipe re-
lighted his pipe, which had gone out, and emptied
his glass.

" My friend," I said, "justice is a virtue. For
a Garde franfaise it must be admitted that you are
a finished story-teller. But I have a strong im-
pression that I have already heard that story some-
where."

" It may be that Julie herself related it. She
was a creature of infinite wit."

" And what became of her ? "

" She knew some happy times in the days of the
Consulate. Nevertheless, of an evening she would
whisper sorrowful secrets to the trees in her park.
You see, Monsieur, she was better armed against
death than against love."

" And he who wrote such elegant letters ? "

" He became a baron and prefect under the
Empire."

"And little Pierre ?"

" He died a colonel of gendarmerie, at Versailles,
in 1859."

"The deuce he did!"

DATE DUE

APR 1

,.,u 6

GAYLORD

INTED IN U.S.A.

UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY